


Night embrace

by Astronautes_et_Dragons



Series: Chidren of the Night and the Moon [1]
Category: The Expanse (TV), The Expanse Series - James S. A. Corey
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Multi, Vampires, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-20
Updated: 2018-01-14
Packaged: 2019-02-04 17:46:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 25,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12776196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Astronautes_et_Dragons/pseuds/Astronautes_et_Dragons
Summary: Holden, a werewolf, has a quiet life in the city of Ceres. Or rather, had. Because after a woman transporting a mysterious cargo knocks on his door, his life is everything but quiet.





	1. Prologue

Without a sound, shadows slipped through the rumbles of the building.

The air reeked of smoke and charred flesh, making the back of their throats itch and other smells difficult to distinguish. But they did not slow down or stop. Although the scientific research center was located in a fairly remote area, they had not much time before policemen and firefighters were on site, and any entanglement with them would not do.

After all, they were not supposed to exist.

For the sake of their people, their existence had to remain secret.

At a signal, the men spread out, weapons ready and senses on alert. Nothing indicated the presence of someone, but you were never too careful.

Those who had remained at the entrance walked down several corridors before their leader raised his fist. They came to a halt. A few meters away lay several completely blackened bodies, their mouth with sharp canines open on a silent scream. Crouching beside one of them while his sisters and brothers in arms proceeded to check the perimeter, the lieutenant noticed several marks of laceration on the throat and a couple of other places thanks to his acute eyesight. His expression darkened. The examination of the other victims told him that they were similarly injured expect for one, making him pause.

Male, hole in the chest, most likely caused by a bullet.

He carefully turned the body to the side. No exit wound.

Reaching for the inner pocket of his jacket, he produced a pair of tweezers and a small plastic bag, and then retrieved the projectile.

“Guardian Grimes for report, sir.”

Eyes on the metallic shard, he gestured for the female soldier to continue.

“The perimeter is secured. There are no survivors and all the computers have been damaged in the fire. We took what we could, but I don’t think we will be able to get anything from them. The video surveillance system was also shut down. We are still making the inventory, but we think it was a heist covered as an accident.”

“Indeed,” he agreed in a calm and even voice. “The victims have marks of claws, except for this one. Silver bullet in the chest.”

“We found another one —male, several bullet wounds too,” she replied before continuing after a moment of hesitation. “Why would lycanthropes be interested in a pharmaceutical company?”

“Excellent question,” he remarked as he got up.

Unfortunately, there was no one to answer. It was also highly unlikely that only two werewolves took out the vampires, even with the advantage of surprise; one or several of their accomplices must have escaped.

His heightened hearing picked up on the police sirens in the distance. They were growing closer. He turned his attention toward the sky. The sun would not be long either.

“Gather the men. We have to warn the vampire council immediately.”


	2. Welcome to Ceres

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have included some information from the books but having read them is not necessary to understand.  
> I accept negative feedback, but only if it is constructive.  
> Thank you for giving this fanfiction a try!

The roll of the train would have rocked Joe Miller to sleep, had he not been too focused on the couple seated a few meters away from him. He watched them with resignation as they talked excitedly about the next site they were going to visit, their eyes riveted on a touristic guide that would have made a law book jealous, cameras around the neck and t-shirt claiming their love for New York on the back. He had been like them, once. Now, show him a backstreet and he would wonder about the traffic that took place there under the cover of the night; tell him about the new buildings lost in the middle of the clouds and he would think about corruption.

Hazard of the job, some would say. If you ask him, it was nothing but damn lucidity.

As the tourists got up, he realized that he had arrived at his station. However, he did not peel himself off of the wall until most of the horde stepped off the train.

A couple of streets and a ride in elevator later, he was at his desk and about to sit down when his superior called him.

Captain Shaddid’s office was all glass, metal and sharp lines, a nice reflection of the person she was.

“Your investigation,” she said, tossing a file that was as thick as his shirt.

Opening it, he was met with the photo of a young Asian woman with soft, dark hair falling down her shoulders.

“Juliette Andromeda Mao. Twenty two. Her father signaled her missing a few days ago. He thinks that she ran away from home. They don’t get along well anymore. You understand that he wants us to be of the utmost discretion.”

Miller refrained from snorting. Oh yeah, he understood. Jules-Pierre Mao was one of the wealthiest and most influent men in the city, at the head of a firm pioneer in scientific equipment and infrastructures. The last thing he wanted was his daughter hitting the front page of every single newspaper. Then would come questions, rumors and suspicions, which could undermine his credibility regarding his associates and eventually destroy his family.

“Yes, ma’am.” He moved to stand when she motioned for someone to join them. A man dressed in a quilted jacket entered.

“Good morning, Captain,” he smiled politely.

Shaddid acknowledged him with a nod and turned her attention back on the old detective. “Your new partner, Dimitri Havelock.”

“Nice to meet you,” the latter said.

Ignoring his outstretched hand, Miller eyed him from under his hat. Young, rather well-built, the kind of guy that helped his fellow citizens in need and sacrificed himself to save humanity.

Three weeks top until he went to the captain, crying for a transfer. If he was not killed first.

Slightly taken aback by his lack of response, Havelock let his hand fall limply at his side.

“Yeah, whatever you said,” Miller eventually replied.

Julie Mao’s family lived in a penthouse in the heart of Manhattan. A man with impeccable hair and suit led the two policemen to Mr. Mao, who received them with his wife in a living room which, Miller estimated, was of the size of his own apartment. At their host’s request, the old detective sank down in the leather couch, declining any refreshment unlike Havelock —a coffee please, with cream, no sugar. Thank you, that’s very kind of you— and did not lose time in civilities.

“Thank you for receiving us. We are here because of your daughter, Julie. You said that she ran away from home?”

“Indeed, I did.”

“What makes you think so?” The man with short, silvery hair inhaled briefly. Ariadne Mao came back with Havelock’s drink.

“Julie has been spending time with activists fighting capitalism. I respect her opinions and convictions, detective Miller, but these individuals are…unsavory. Violent. She dropped her studies without so much as a warning despite being promised to a brilliant career of physicist, and left home. We tried to reach her, but all our calls and messages went unanswered.”

His wife squeezed his hand and smiled ruefully. From the corner of his eye, Miller noticed his partner scrawling on a notebook.

“Do you have any idea of where she went?”

The couple exchanged a glance. “We think that she might be in the Belt, in Ceres. From what I have gathered, several people she was in contact with came from there.”

“You mean the activists? Could you give us names or describe them?” Havelock cut in.

“I am sorry, I have never seen them and it is highly unlikely that they used their real identity. I only know that their group is called Far Horizons Foundation.”

More scrawling.

“I would like to see her room,” Miller said.

“Naturally, detective. Please, follow me.”

Bathing in the light that entered through the bay window, Julie Mao’s room had a warm atmosphere, an impression that was accentuated by the cream tones of the walls and the dark wooden floorboard. The furniture was also made of the same material, from the bed and the nightstand to the huge library and the desk. On the latter, next to a laptop, a frame caught the attention of the policeman. It was Julie Mao, a few years younger, her arms around the shoulders of a girl and a boy standing on each side of her. Judging by their physical resemblance, they were her siblings.

“Clarissa and Petyr,” the father confirmed. “They don’t know what happened with their big sister yet.”

Miller put the photo back in its place. “We will need to take the computer and to search the room for possible evidence.”

“Everything you need, detective. But please, find my daughter.”

 

* * *

 

 The Canterbury was filled with the sound of conversations and laughter of the people looking for some relaxation after a stressful week of work. Behind the counter, a dark-haired man was busy drying glasses when he spotted the arrival of a new customer. Throwing the cloth nonchalantly over his shoulder, he approached her.

“Good evening, what would it be?”

“A beer, please.”

“Coming immediately.”

He returned a few moments later, her drink in his hand and a smile on his lips. “Here you go.”

She thanked him and no longer paid attention to him until she remarked that he was still in front of her, obviously not going anywhere anytime soon.

“Yes?” she raised an eyebrow slightly.

“Are you just dropping by? It’s the first time I see you here.”

If some of Ceres’ inhabitants liked to spend the weekend in the other cities surrounding New York which composed what was called the Belt, the reverse was also true. And he would have never forgotten a woman with almond eye and a skin of a cedar color, who sported a tapered haircut.

“I’ve arrived recently.”

“Are you the person who is going to take over the garage?”

The former manager, already present when Holden arrived in the city years ago and actually present since much longer as he learned later, had finally decided to retire and to leave for somewhere warm and sunny with his wife.

She studied him. “You seem surprised. Maybe you were expecting a man?”

“No, that’s not it. I—”

“Holden!” one of his colleagues interrupted. “Stop flirting shamelessly and take care of the other clients!”

The bartender winced, and let out a sigh before walking away under the amused gaze of the woman. His task done, he immediately went back to her, determined to clear up any misunderstanding.

“For earlier, I just meant that I had nothing against a woman being a mechanic,” he explained. “On the contrary, I think that’s a good thing.”

She smiled. “Naomi Nagata.”

“James Holden,” he replied as they shook hands. “Welcome to Ceres.”

The bartender did not have the opportunity to talk to her further since she did not stay long, but his disappointment was smoothen by the fact that she waved him goodbye, flashing him this smile he had the impression he was going to grow fond of. He went home in the middle of the evening, and after tossing his bag and jacket in the entrance, he turned the television while he prepared for a quick shower.

_“A fire broke out in Phoebe Corps laboratory. Unfortunately, it seems that none of the scientist working there—”_

The end of the sentence was drowned under the noise of a fist slamming against wood. Holden turned his gaze toward the door, frowning. The hits were vigorous, and although it was not that late, he knew no one that could pay him a visit at this hour. He approached slowly. His hand moved toward the doorknob and stopped as different scents reached him; that of a female lycanthrope and two others, none of which he liked— blood and silver. He hesitated a moment, and eventually opened the door although not fully. His eyes fell on a dark-haired, young woman whose features were hidden by a cap.

“I need to patch myself up,” she said without preamble. She had a slight accent from New York.

He then noticed her hand covering her abdomen. There, the fabric was darker and sprinkled with something that glimmered. His knuckles turned white around the handle.

Lately, vampires proved to be particularly creative and resourceful when it came to creating new weapons.

“Are you going to let me in or do you prefer to explain to your neighbors why there is someone bleeding all over your doormat?”

He refrained from wincing. Although he lived in the outskirts of the town, somewhere calmer and quieter, that did not mean that he was safe from noisy people. His eyes darted around. He thought that he saw the curtain at his neighbor move, but he was not sure.

Well, better not let her there and attract suspicions. He opened his door widely.

“Bathroom?” she asked, rushing in immediately.

“At the back, on the right. There are bandages and compresses in the medicine cabinet.”

“I will need a knife.”

After providing what she requested, the werewolf went to the couch, waiting for her to exit the room. She sure had some explaining to do.

“Where can I throw that away?”

He turned his head. The woman was standing a few steps away from him, a bandage in her hand.

“It’s a shard of silver bullet,” she warned.

“There’s a trashcan under the sink.”

She walked toward it and disposed of the piece of metal. He noted that she had a backpack, which she had kept with her since she entered.

“Thank you for your help,” she said, facing him. “I need to go, now.”

She was about to match conduct to word when Holden’s silhouette became blurry, and then he was in front of her, blocking her way.

“Not before you tell me who you are and who is after you,” he stated. “Are they vampires? Hunters?” It was obvious that she was knee-deep into trouble.

“I don’t have time for this.”

A golden gleam flashed in Holden’s dark brown eyes. A warning.

“The less you know, the better. And the longer I stay here, the more I’ll put you in danger. I need to go. Now.”

“Where to?”

“Have you even listened to me?” she asked, annoyed.

“If the guys who are after you show up at my house, I want to at least know why.”

“Sorry, I can’t tell you anything.”

She moved before he had the time to react and disappeared as suddenly as she came.


	3. hounds

Holden’s lips stretched into a smile upon noticing the new name written in a retro style at the entrance of the garage —Rocinante. The smell of burnt rubber and fuel hit his nostrils as he entered. A man was bent over the motor of one of the cars occupying the space, the hood hiding him from view. But the bartender did not need to see him to know who he was, or rather what he was. His smile vanished, his gaze hardened. The stranger straightened, closed the hood in a sharp snapping sound and grabbed a rag before approaching him. The sleeves of his overall were rolled up, showing strong muscular arms covered in tattoos. The hostility and defiance Holden read in his steel blue eyes belied his calm demeanor as he slowly and silently wiped his oil stained hands. Nevertheless, the dark-haired man did not let himself get flustered; they both knew what was at stake.

They stayed there, staring at each other for a long moment —too long for the bartender’s liking although he was used to that kind of confrontations.

The man in front of him either did not know who he was, or simply did not give a dam. Which meant he was either dangerous or completely reckless.

“I think there’s someone for you, boss,” he called gruffly, his eyes still on him.

He put the cloth down and turned his back to him, a gesture that indicated without mistake that he did not consider him a threat or powerful enough to defeat him in a combat. Holden clenched his fists but did not do anything. Naomi would certainly be displeased if they fought at her workplace, and he had yet to figure out if they were colleagues or something more. His hands relaxed when the stranger walked away and the young woman appeared.

“Mr. Holden. Came here because you have some problem with your car, or because you wanted to make sure I really was what I claimed to be?” she asked with her arms crossed, a hint of amusement showing in her tone.

“If I told you that my car would no start, you would not believe me, would you?”

She looked at him with the same expression than that of the previous night, an eyebrow raised.

No, she would not believe him.

“I just thought that I could drop by, see how business is doing. And it seems to be doing well,” he replied, glancing at the vehicles.

“Being the only garage downtown is sure helpful.”

He nodded and as silence settled between them, they gazed at each other. Naomi’s eyes, of a rich dark brown color that reminded him of the earth after the rain, were full of kindness. Holden slightly cleared his throat.

“I noticed the name you gave to the garage. You like _Don Quixote_?”

“That’s not me. Amos chose it,” she explained, pointing with her chin the direction the mechanic took.

So, Amos was his name. Holden noted it carefully in a corner of his mind. He would have preferred to share something with her instead of him. His annoyance must have been clear on his face, because she asked him if something happened.

“No, no, everything is fine,” he answered quickly. Too quickly. Once again, she was not fooled.

“He’s a good heart. He’s just not always very…sociable.”

Holden wondered for a moment how it must be like during the couple of days preceding the full moon, and hoped that that Amos had enough control over himself.

For Naomi’s sake as well as his.

“If you don’t mind, I have to go back to work.”

“Oh, yes, of course. Just one last thing, I meant to ask you…where do you come from?”

“I’m a Belter.” She did not elaborate and he did not push further. One question at a time, Holden.

However, that left only two possibilities since it was the first time she came to Ceres. She was either from Eros or Ganymede.

“And you?”

“I’m from the western coast.”

Surprise flickered over her features. “Of all the places to settle you chose there, crossing the whole country?”

“I needed a change of scenery,” he shrugged.

Silence settled once again. “I’ll leave you alone. Have a good day.”

“You too, Mr. Holden.”

Amos came back as soon as the bartender was out of sight. “He’s like me. But pretty high in the hierarchy.”

“That doesn’t change anything,” she replied, facing him. “I have no intention to date him, if that’s what is bothering you.”

“Good. That would not be wise,” he remarked before adding when she gave him a pointed look. “I’m aware that you’re perfectly able to defend yourself, but he has resources. We won’t stand a chance if he decides to use them.”

She stayed silent a moment, recalling their conversation. Holden had not been specific when answering her, but neither had she. Thus, she could not blame him for that. It was no use starting to worry when they did not know him. All she would gain from that were white hair and more than limited social life.

“I just wanted you to know,” Amos said.

* * *

 

Silence filled the car.

Havelock did try to start a conversation, and more than once, but as he quickly came to the conclusion that his efforts were vain, he had resigned himself to spend the remaining two hours of the journey without uttering a single word. The sole time Miller opened his mouth was to tell him to forget that he was there and to keep his eyes on the road, unless he wanted to get them killed, before returning to Julie Mao’s file. The latter, although augmented with recent research, was far from being voluminous but still the detective kept examining it.

They finally reached Ceres in the middle of the morning. Havelock pulled up in front of a hotel in the heart of the city. The exterior promised nothing excessively fancy or lavish, but at least it seemed decent. Miller climbed out and turned toward his partner, his arm leaning against the door of the vehicle.

“Listen carefully. From now on, you shut your mouth unless I tell you otherwise and more importantly, you do what I tell you.”

The door on the passenger side slammed with more force than strictly necessary. “I’m not a trainee or a rookie, Miller. I know how to do my job.”

The detective tilted his head, and then scratched his cheek with a finger, pensive.

“Tell me, have you already been here?”

“No, it’s the first time.”

“Thought so,” he said before looking at him straight in the eyes. “I was born here. I grew up here. I know how things work. You don’t. You wouldn’t even last an hour if I dumped you in the Medina.”

He was about to continue, when Dimitri raised his hand. “I get it,” he said, “I will follow your lead.”

The man turned away, apparently satisfied with his answer, and walked toward the building.

“Let’s go. We’ve already wasted enough time as it is.”

The middle-aged lady at the check in desk glanced at them as they entered and opened the register, pen in hand. “One room?”

“Make it two,” Miller answered. At the sound of his voice, she looked up, and he saw at her expression that she recognized him. “Hello Elizabeth.”

“Look at that, isn’t it Miller. We haven’t seen you around in ages. So, what business brings you here? Fed up with New York? Or New York is fed up with you? You didn’t get fired, did you? Does Tavi know you’re here?” she inquired before he could answer any of her questions.

“And who is that guy?” she continued, eyeing the tan-skinned man standing by his side.

“What the hell is that? An interrogation?” the detective said in mock irritation, hands held up. “You’re not the cop, here.”

“So?” she pressed on, an eyebrow arched.

“I’m here for work. And he’s my partner,” he replied, gesturing at Havelock. The later waved at her while she sized him up.

“I see. Two rooms, then.”

He gave her the requested amount, and the blonde woman handed him their keys; the good, old metallic ones. There were no magnetic cards here.

“Anything else?” she said upon noticing that Miller lingered, whereas his colleague had left to fetch their belongings.

Slipping a hand in the jacket of his suit, he produced a photo. “No chance that you’ve seen her?”

“Who am I looking at?”

“Juliette Andromeda Mao.”

“The daughter of that Jules-Pierre Mao? Why would I’ve seen her here?” She narrowed her eyes. “What are you up to, Miller?”

He held back a sigh. “Told you, I’m working on a case. You’ve seen her, yes or no?”

“No, I haven’t seen her here, sir,” she quipped. “Maybe you will have more luck with the other establishments.”

A resolute expression on his face, Miller pushed the door of the Canterbury open. Dimitri and he had interviewed every manager of the hotels in the area, so far without success, but before extending the scope of their research the old detective had decided to tour the bars. There was no place more suited for encounters and intel, although even in those nobody had caught a glimpse of the young Asian.

“Good evening, what would it be?” a dark walnut-skinned man asked.

“Information,” he replied, showing him his insignia and the photograph that never left the pocket of his jacket. “I’m looking for this young woman, Juliette Andromeda Mao. From what I’ve been told, she might have dropped by.”

The bartender took the photo, examined it closely and gave it back to him. “Sorry, I haven’t seen her, detective….?”

“Joe Miller. Do you know if someone has?”

“You should talk to Holden, he has a good memory for faces,” he said before adding with a slightly mocking smile. “Especially when it’s a pretty face.”

“That Holden, he has a name?”

“James. James Holden.”

“Where can I find him?”

Once in possession of the address, Miller turned around to see Havelock discussing with a waitress of a svelte figure. He knew that they would cover more ground if they split up, but he did not think his partner would be particularly successful, except for starting a fight. And at the moment he seemed far more interested in the phone number of that girl than in gathering what he could to help on the case. She caught him staring at them and said something to Dimitri, who looked in his direction. The policeman motioned for him to join him.

“A certain James Holden might have seen her. The bartender, Cameron Paj, said that he does not work today. I have his address, we will see him tomorrow. The last thing I want is a potential witness or suspect refusing to tell us a single thing because we showed up on their doorstep at an hour they consider indecent.”

He turned heels, but stopped and gave Havelock a questioning look after he noticed that he was not following him.

“I’m going to stay here a bit longer,” he explained. “As you said, this is the first time I come to Ceres.”

He studied him for a moment. “Do what you want, as long as you are there tomorrow morning to interrogate Holden and that we don’t end up in trouble because of you.”

Miller was engrossed in his research about the bartender, when someone knocked on his door. Sighing, he got up and looked through the peephole, expecting to see Havelock.

But it was not his partner. On the other side of the door stood a woman in black trousers and blouse, her wavy, oak hair gathered in a bun.

Octavia Muss. Or Tavi, as he once called her.

He stayed rooted on the spot, indecisive, and eventually decided to ignore her when she spoke.

“I know you’re in there, Miller. I see your shadow under the door.” He berated himself internally for being such an idiot. Well, there was no point in pretending anymore.

“Muss,” he greeted with a nonchalance that was belied by the tension in his posture.

If he did suspect that Elizabeth would warn Octavia of his arrival as soon as she mentioned her name during their conversation, he did not expect it to be so quick. That woman should really stop putting her nose in others’ business.

“You seem to do well,” she said, taking in his long-shaped face.

“You too.”

“You’re still working in the NYPD?”

“Yeah. I’m stuck with a boy from Oregon because of Shaddid.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Sematimba left?”

He nodded. “He’s in Eros, now.”

“What about you tell me everything over a drink?” she suggested.

And here we are. That was the moment when he was going to screw everything up, as usual.

He could not help but glance in the direction of the documents scattered on his bed. Unfortunately for him, she followed his gaze. She smiled sadly.

“Work comes first,” she said, crossing her arms. “You really haven’t changed after all these years.”

He looked sheepish, like a child who would deny having eaten all the biscuits despite the crumbs at his feet.

“Glad I saw you, Miller.” She gave him another strained smile and walked away. She had reached the stairs when he called after her.

“Okay. For good old times’ sake.”

* * *

 

The score and the name of the winner appeared on the screen. Once again, it was Holden. The man with dark, short curly hair seated next to him dropped the controller, swearing, and almost knocked over one of the pizza boxes littering the coffee table.

“That’s not cool dude! I take the time to visit you and this is how you say thank you?” he said, feigning to be hurt while his light colored eyes became briefly gray.

“It’s not my fault if I’m good at this,” Holden teased.

The two friends had not seen each other for quite a while despite living in the same city. Their schedules were tight, particularly that of Shed who sometimes had to work at night. Thus, when they discovered that their day off coincided, they decided to spend the evening together.

That’s how the male nurse ended up in Holden’s apartment, trying to salvage what little dignity he had left.

He started another game and was about to answer his provocation, but was interrupted by the sound of the doorbell.

“You were expecting someone else?” he inquired, slightly surprised. It was a bit late for visits.

“No,” the werewolf merely replied before walking toward the door, memories of his encounter with the mysterious young woman flashing in his mind.

Perplexity gave way to mistrust when he perceived the scents of his visitors. He opened and eyed warily the female vampire and her colleague.

“Mr. James Holden?” the latter said.

“Yes?” “We have some questions to ask you.”

“Concerning what?” he inquired immediately.

“We are looking for a girl suspected of theft,” he replied, showing him a photograph.

Holden froze for a moment upon seeing it. As he dreaded, it was that of the stranger who had showed up on his doorstep. He swore internally. He knew that he was going to have some trouble.

“Is that not the Guardians’ job to investigate?” The lack of the unmistakable dark clothing and boots led him to believe that they were not part of them.

“They have more important things to do than dealing with a mere thief.”

“Witnesses told us that she came to your house,” the dark-skinned woman stepped in. “Do you confirm?”

“Yes. She used my bathroom to tend to her injuries and left immediately after. She didn’t tell me anything. I don’t even know her name.”

It was at this moment that Holden noticed something was askew. None of them had given him the name of the young woman. If they were looking for her, were they not supposed to do so? And if they did not know who she was, should they not have asked him for her identity? It could only mean that they were aware of whom she was, and that they refused to share that information with him. Why such secrecy for a “mere thief”?

_The less you know, the better. And the longer I stay, the more I’ll put you in danger._

“Did she have something with her? A bag, maybe?”

Yes, there was definitely something wrong. His friend must have sensed his nervousness, because he asked him from the couch if everything was alright.

“Yeah, they were leaving,” Holden replied, his eyes fixed on the vampires. “I’ve already told you, I don’t know anything. She came to my house, tended to her injuries and then left. Now, excuse me but I think we are done here.”

He meant to close the door, but the vampire blocked it with one hand. “And I think that you’re not telling us everything.”

His coat moved because of the gesture, uncovering the gun at his hip.

Holden tensed. It was plated in silver.

The vampire followed his gaze, their eyes met. The bartender violently slammed the door shut. The man yelped.

“Shed! Take the back door!”

“What’s going on?” he asked, coming to a stand in a swift movement.

Windows shattered. A silver blade sliced the air and caught his friend in the throat, killing him.

Several individuals landed in the living room, their clothes in stark contrast with their skin as pale as the moon.

They hurled themselves at Holden.


	4. Find me Holden

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning: there is some violence.

Bullets pierced the couch behind which Holden had taken cover.

Curled up, he saw from the corner of his eye one of the vampires get around to reach him. If he had not already gotten rid of two of them with the table legs, they would have circled him and then it would have been the end of him. Unfortunately, he could not leave his hiding spot without running the risk to take a piece of silver. Or rather a few pieces of silver. He slipped a clawed hand beneath his shirt, and waited patiently for his opponent to grow nearer. May that work. Holden pulled out his pendant and brandished it in front of him. The vampire recoiled when his eyes landed on the cross, hissing. The bartender seized the opportunity and drew closer, pendant still in hand, but the vampire suddenly ceased to twist in pain, and his lips slowly stretched into a predatory grin.

Of course, it had to be the guy who was atheist or who had another religion. He charged at him, baring his fangs. Holden sank his claws into his arm as he grabbed him with one hand, and let himself roll back before pushing the man away with a powerful kick in his abdomen. He heard the sharp sound of cracking ribs. Without losing time, he pointed at him the gun he had managed to take during their fight, trying his best to ignore the burns caused by the contact with the metal. He fired once, then twice. His opponent, who was struggling to stand up, sprawled with a whimper. Silver may not be deadly to them, but it was still painful.

So focused as he was on him, Holden had forgotten about the other vampire. He barely had the time to cover his face when the silver powder hit him. Blinded, he sensed too late his opponent rushing at him, and braced himself for the impact. But it never came. The vampire was violently tackled to the ground by someone. Growls and screams reached Holden’s ears, and then nothing. He slowly lowered his arms. In front of him stood a humanoid blonde wolf that was white underside, as if he had lie down across a freshly painted surface.

He knew that scent and these blue, burning eyes.

Amos.

They nodded to each other. The remaining aggressor, who was standing up with difficulty, was aware that he had no hope of defeating two werewolves and ran for the door. The mechanic pulled out a table leg from one of the bodies and threw it. Right into the heart. The vampire fell and did not move.

“We must go immediately,” the tattooed man stated, reverting back to his fully human form. “There are certainly more of them.”

Holden followed him without a word, sparing his friend a last glance as they walked past him. He did not like it, leaving him there, but he had no choice. They went through the backdoor and into the street, where a car was waiting for them in a corner. They were barely seated that Naomi slammed her foot on the accelerator, and they headed outside of the city.

“You’re alright?” she asked Holden.

He met her worried gaze. “Yes. But I can’t say the same for my friend.”

“I’m sorry,” she said sincerely before turning her attention to Amos, sitting in the back next to the bartender. He had turned around, looking at something for quite a time now.

“In the floor, at your feet. Hold on tight.”

Holden felt the vehicle gain in speed. He looked above his shoulder and made out several figures approaching rapidly. Amos bent over and removed the rug, revealing what looked like a secret compartment. He pulled out a large, rectangular case and opened it, a ferocious gleam in his eyes. Astonished, Holden saw that it was filled with various weapons —guns, crossbows, silver blades and throwing knives, metallic powders and bottles of holy water.

Weapons used by hunters.

Amos grabbed a crossbow as if it was the most natural thing in the world, and tested the mechanism appreciatively. Satisfied, he handed it to Holden. “Have some fun.”

* * *

 

When Miller and his partner arrived on the scene at the first lights of day, there already was a crowd of journalists that policemen were trying to contain as best they could in addition of a few onlookers. The detective roughly pushed people aside without remorse until he reached the yellow ribbon, and shoved his insignia in the face of the officer.

“Detectives Miller and Havelock.”

“You’re from the NYPD?” he asked, brow creased into a frown. “What are you doing here?”

“Holden is an important witness in our investigation.”

The man seemed unsure. Miller was ready to show him why precisely some people thought he was a jerk, when someone intervened.

“Let them pass.”

The Belter did not need to turn his eyes in the direction of the voice to know that it was Octavia Muss.

“You heard the lady,” he said when the policeman still did not seem to be in a hurry to obey. The officer glared at him and motioned for them to move forward. Havelock thanked him with a bow of his head.

“What do you have?” the detective asked as they joined his friend.

“It seems that several individuals assaulted Holden, late in the evening. Some of them broke in to take him by surprise; the windows of the living room are shattered. No valuable object is missing, which rules out the robbery went wrong hypothesis.”

“How many victims?”

“Five confirmed, one being Shed Garvey. Thirty two, worked at the hospital as a nurse, arrested a few times for carrying drugs. The others did not have IDs on them.”

“And James Holden?” Havelock inquired, catching her attention.

“He disappeared. You’re Dimitri Havelock?”

“Yes. Miller’s new partner.”

“Octavia Muss.”

“Pleased to meet you.”

They shook hands and Miller refrained from rolling his eyes. “Can we go back to the situation at hand?” he asked gruffly. “You’ll have all the time in the world for socializing later.”

They exchanged a glance, and Havelock had the feeling that she knew exactly what he was going through.

“How were they killed?” Miller continued.

“That’s where things get a little complicated. Shed Garvey took a blade to the throat. Three of the aggressors were shot and stabbed with table legs, but another has deep mark of bites on the throat and mark of claws as if he was mauled by an animal.”

“A dog?” Havelock ventured. He seemed strangely unconvinced by his own hypothesis. The policewoman shook her head.

“Holden didn’t have any and neither Shed Garvey.”

Miller removed his hat and slicked back the blonde strands of hair that partially covered his head. How many chances were there that his witness —his only witness—in the Julie Mao case got attacked not long after he started asking questions? Miller did not believe in coincidences, not when they were that big; someone had tried to prevent James Holden from revealing information. And judging by the worry in her eyes, Octavia had deduced the same and was wondering in what he got mixed up this time. He had talked to her, the night before, about the case that had been given to him and the girl he was looking for; he had been unable not to bring up his job at one point in their conversation. One of the reasons he no longer had the right to call her Tavi.

“Who called?”

“A neighbor, a certain McDowell,” she replied, turning to the house in the vicinity.

“It’s time for a visit,” he said before going in the direction she indicated. “Thank you, Muss. Owe you one.”

“Try not to ruin my investigation too much, Miller,” she called after him.

“You know very well I can’t keep that kind of promise.”

A chubby man, whose face was partly hidden under a beard of several days and dark locks of hair, opened the door.

“Mr. McDowell? Detectives Miller and Havelock.”

“I’ve already told everything I know to your colleagues.” He moved to close the door.

“We just want to ask you some questions, in case you remember something since the last time you talked to the police,” Dimitri immediately explained.

The tension in the shoulders of the fifty years old man seemed to ease. He gestured for them to go ahead.

“Can you tell us what happened at Holden’s house last night?”

“I was sleeping when I heard noise. Sounded like broken glass. Then, there were several gunshots.”

“The hour?” Miller asked.

“I don’t know, maybe one in the morning. I thought it was a robbery. I would have never thought that…I’ve heard about Shed, poor boy…”

Miller slightly dipped his head, the brim of his hat hiding his eyes. If there was one thing that he hated in his job, it was to inform the victim’s family. He might be nothing but a messenger, he always had the impression to personally cause them grief and pain.

His thoughts drifted to Julie Mao; hopefully he would not have to do that for her.

“Did you see Holden or his aggressors?” he continued, focusing back on the present situation.

“No, I did not dare going out, so I called the police. But when everything was quiet again, I looked out the window and saw a car speed by.”

“In which direction?”

“Outside of the city, I think.”

“Could you give us the plate, a description of the vehicle, or of the occupants?”

He looked briefly at his feet. “Well, that car was moving pretty fast. All I can is that it was a van. I don’t know how to describe the color. It was brown, or maybe green; I don’t know.”

“You have an idea of the identity of Holden’s aggressors?”

“No, he’s a nice guy, he doesn’t have any enemies. But well, he works at a bar. Maybe he pissed someone off and they wanted to make him pay.”

The detective dutifully noted that information in a corner of his mind. They would have to return to the Canterbury to have the employees confirm. Havelock was going to walk on air.

He took the photo of Julie Mao. “You’ve seen her around?”

While the man studied the photo, his brow furrowed and his expression became pensive. Miller felt a spark of hope in his chest.

“A girl knocked on Holden’s door, two days ago. I didn’t see her well, a cap was hiding half of her face, but she looked like her a lot. She had a backpack too.”

That was something new.

“Thank you for your time, Mr. McDowell. Good day.”

The two policemen walked back to their car.

“It’s highly likely that the guys who attacked Holden were actually looking for Julie Mao,” Miller said to Havelock.

“Do you think that he helped her run away, or that they know each other? That he’s one of the activists her father talked about?”

“It’s possible. We won’t know for sure until we find Holden.”

* * *

 

Sadavir Errinwright looked a moment at the phone, pondering, before dialing a number that he knew all too well. Several seconds passed before he heard a female, gravelly voice.

“I hope you have a very good reason to call in the middle of the night.”

“Chrisjen,” he greeted quietly. “The Council is about to meet.”

They hang up without further words. Taking his pad, he was greeted with the sight of his colleague, of a lean-faced man, and of a woman whose dark hair was gathered in a braided bun.

“Councilor Errinwright,” the latter greeted. “Why summoning the Council in such haste?"

"Less than an hour ago, a werewolf told me something that was rather unexpected. He was the object of an attack perpetrated by vampires. You have certainly heard of this?”

He laced his fingers and tilted his head slightly, waiting for her answer. Like most of her peers, her stoic expression prevented interlocutors from knowing her thoughts or emotions, but she was without doubt carefully choosing her next words. To confirm would put them in a delicate position, but to declare that they were unaware of that aggression was worse; it was a sign of weakness.

“Maybe one of our clans found out that that lycanthrope was involved in the attack against us, a few days ago.”

The werewolf with the eyes of the color of a glacier held back a smile. Always so swift to turn the situation to their advantage.

“I can assure you that he had nothing to do with that, I checked myself. Thus, if it is some retaliation against my kind, or even a mistake on your part, be sure that there will be consequences.”

“Are you certain that this lycanthrope is telling the truth?” Pyotr Korshunov asked, feeling tensions rise. “Maybe he is trying to divide us for a reason that is yet unknown.”

“As Councilor Errinwright told you, our source is reliable,” Chrisjen Avasarala answered. “So, if I were you, I would quickly sort things out before we hear that you went after other innocent civilians. It would be a pity to start a war because of a misunderstanding.”

“We will naturally inform you of the progress of our investigation,” the female vampire replied before giving them a curt nod and going off line, shortly followed by the other leader.

His colleague remained a bit longer to give him a pointed look, certainly wondering why she had been informed at the same time than the Archons, but did not say anything. With a sigh, Sadavir Errinwright pushed the pad away.

Well, one problem solved and one more to go.

Jules-Pierre Mao’s reading of business reports was interrupted by a voice echoing in the doorway.

“Sir! Excuse me, sir! If you don’t have an appointment, you can’t—”

The door of the office was suddenly pushed open, and a man dressed in an elegant night-colored suit stepped in.

“Good morning, Jules.”

“Sadavir.” He then noticed his secretary behind him. “It’s alright, thank you. Leave us alone.”

The employee complied and closed the door, but not without casting a last, suspicious glance at the werewolf leader.

“Please, take a seat,” the businessman offered, gesturing at the chair across from him.

His interlocutor did not need his heightened sense of smell to perceive that he was nervous.

“Thank you but it’s not necessary, I won’t be long,” he replied, putting his hands in his pockets. “I just came to inform you that our… _common friends_ know that you involved the police.”

“I can explain—” Sadavir Errinwright raised a hand.

“You don’t have to worry, they won’t take action. Actually, your decision suits them because it drew the attention of the police to their enemies.”

“You know that my daughter is with them. What will happen when _your_ friends find her?”

He tilted his head, a light smile on his lips. “Well, if you help us retrieve what she stole I can convince them to be merciful. She will certainly be incarcerated, but at least she would still be alive and you could visit her. On the contrary, if you stand on our way or reveal to detectives Miller and Havelock something that you should not have…then, I’m afraid it would be impossible for me to help you in any capacity. After all, your daughter betrayed our people. And I am curious as to what the vampires do when they will hear about the role she played in that attack on one of their research compounds.”

“How dare you! She has nothing to do with that!” he exclaimed, clenching his fists.

“Please, calm down my friend,” he advised him. “Her well-being depends upon your actions.”

Glaring at him, Jules-Pierre Mao breathed deeply and started to relax.

“Better. On that note, have a good day.”

* * *

 

Fred Johnson scanned the digital map marked with colorful dots before inevitably looking down at the desk, where the phone was. He paused and waited, but as always the device stayed stubbornly still.

“Drummer for report, sir.”

He slightly turned his head in the direction of his right arm, a woman with smoky eyes and dark hair tied into a braid falling down between her shoulder blades.

“Our agents were killed during the mission. Lionel Polanski is still considered missing.”

“And our cargo?”

“The last radio contact indicates that he retrieved it, but it might no longer be in his possession. There had been movement among the werewolves; they seem to be hunting him down.”

“Where were they heading?”

“We lost their tracks in the outskirt of the Belt. Anderson also reported a vampire incursion in the territory of Ceres. It appears that they went after a certain James Holden.”

“Leave that for now and focus on the research.”

“Understood, sir.”

“You can dismiss.”

She bowed and left the room. Fred Johnson’s eyes went back to the digital map where the Belt was located.

Vampires and werewolves, it did not matter who between the two put their hands on the substance first; the consequences would still be dire for humans. Thus, it was vital that they find it, if not Julie Mao too. But he was not worried. He knew that she was acutely aware of what was at stake, and that she would never betray them, no matter what.

She was one of them now.

She was a hunter.


	5. Hot on your heels

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning: there is some gunfight and violence.

His phone vibrated against the wooden surface.

Lying on the bed, Dimitri extended an arm and winced when he felt dull pain run across his bones. He looked at the ID and let out a sigh before answering.

“Havelock.”

“Where the hell are you?” Miller asked with his customary politeness.

“At the hotel.”

“At the hotel? What are you doing at that damned hotel? I told you to go back to the Canterbury to interrogate Cameron Paj.”

“And I did!” he protested. “I called you but you would not pick up, so I texted you.”

Miller unglued his ear and saw that he was indeed telling the truth. “And? What did he say?”

Another exasperated sigh. Could he not just read the text he sent him instead of annoying him?

“If he had a more or less serious argument with a client, he did not hear about it. And before you ask me, the other employees answered the same, even those who are not working today.”

“Alright. Next time you decide to go back to the hotel like that, tell me, is that clear? If something happens to you, how do I know where I have to go or send help to? I use the psychic powers I don’t have?”

“What are you, my babysitter or my partner? I’m a big boy, Miller. I can take care of myself, thank you very much.”

The detective raised an eyebrow. Someone was in a mood.

“Happy to hear we are on the same page,” he snorted. “I have a lead for Holden. Naomi Nagata, the manager of the garage did not open this morning. I went to the apartment she shares with a Amos Burton. There was no one there, and the car was missing. I found the latter thanks to our database and it could match the description given by McDowell. It’s a Chevrolet pickup, of a brown green color.”

“That’s called kaki, Miller.”

“Yeah, my deepest apologies,” he answered, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Havelock ignored him. “They would have helped James Holden escape?”

“It seems so to me.”

“We need to ask Octavia Muss the authorization to have a look at the camera footage to try to determine where they are exactly heading. And they have certainly set up roadblocks at strategic points.”

“No need for that, I know where they are heading. Nagata has friends in Ganymede. We are going now.” He seemed to sense his hesitation.

“What is it, now?”

“I can’t go with you.”

“Why, you have a date with that pretty waitress?”

Havelock’s fingers clenched, on the verge to break the phone in half. He breathed in deeply. “No, I’m not feeling okay, that’s why I went back to the hotel.”

“I’ll go alone, then. I’ll keep in touch.”

He hung up without waiting for an answer, and looked at the calendar on his phone, the only app that was useful to him among all the others that impeded his screen before he tidied it up. This night was going to be the full moon.

In a mood, indeed.

 

* * *

 

 In the back, arms resting on top of the seats, muscles tensed, James carefully watched over Naomi who was a few meters away in case something went wrong —a hunter materializing out of thin air, another group of vampires and such. He was still seeing the dark silhouettes, the gleam of the blades, and the face of his friend. To think that it was him who asked Shed to come to his place…

Splinters of wood, drops of blood and locks of blonde hair flashed through his mind.

Holden shook his head in an attempt to get rid of those images that clang to him like spider webs. Although the life of a werewolf was not devoid of violence because of the conflicts between packs, among a pack, some humans who tracked them down, the possible difficulties to control one’s wolf side, and the altercations with vampires, he did not get used to it. Or rather, he refused to get used to it.

The mechanic finally emerged from the shop and went back to the car. Since she was human, they had agreed that it would be more prudent if she were the one tasked with buying the clothing they needed —werewolves tended to tear them off even when not completely transformed, not to mention that the vampire blood covering Amos would hardly help them go unnoticed.

This was also the reason why she had provided a prepaid phone to contact the Elders, the leaders of their people, in order to inform them. And it had not escaped the bartender that in addition of the device she had also bought two bottles of water, magazines and a couple of protein bars, things that could have passed as necessary or at least usual when on the road. As if to better cover their tracks. It was safe to say that not everyone had that reflex.

But not everyone hid a case full of weapons in the floor of their car either.

After a little more than an hour, Holden insisted that he drive so she could have some rest and she agreed, giving him directions from time to time. The Belter was taking them to Ganymede, to the apartment of a trustworthy friend where they could lay low and be out of danger. The bartender still had difficulties to believe that they were almost arrived, and without being attacked even once. That did not prevent Amos, seated in the back, from making sure that no one was following them.

“What are you thinking about?”

Naomi, who was contemplating the landscape, turned to face him. “I will have to inform the employees of the Rocinante that they will be on their own for a couple of days, maybe even a week.”

The tattooed man refrained from commenting. They came to Ceres to have a bit of peace and quiet, and only two days after their arrival they were already on the run, chased by vampires who thought that they would make nice rugs in their living rooms. What a success! He had told her that that Holden would bring nothing but trouble.

“It’s the same for you with the Canterbury,” Naomi continued. “And the police must be looking for you.”

The lycanthrope remained silent, eyes fixed on the road. He had been so busy staying alive that he had completely forgotten about his co-workers and the fact that he would be considered a witness —or maybe even a suspect— after what happened at his place.

“Those vampires, what did they want?”

“Two days ago, a werewolf showed up at my house. She was hurt; I let her tend to her injuries. Then, vampires came. They were looking for her, claiming that she stole something.”

“Was it true?”

“I don’t really know. She had a backpack with her but that does not mean anything.”

“You know who she was?”

He shook his head. “She would not tell me anything, and—”

“We have company,” Amos interrupted.

The bartender swallowed back a swear. Apparently, he had talked too quickly. A glance in the rear-view mirror told him that a car with tinted window was just behind them, flanked by two motorcycles with a third behind.

Dark clothing going from charcoal to black…not an inch of skin visible… Vampires.

Worst, Guardians; men and women trained to watch over their kind and thus to neutralize any threat or danger.

Holden could make out the outline of several weapons under their jacket; they must have others hidden elsewhere on them. His jaw tightened.

“What are you doing?” Naomi hissed at Amos who was bent over the case filled with weapons at his feet.

“We should lose them. This is just a precaution.”

“No way, Amos! They are Guardians! Do you want the Archons going after us?”

“What do we do then, boss?”

She was about to answer when she noticed a vampire motioning for Holden to follow them as they were heading toward the nearest exit. They exchanged a look. She nodded. James obeyed.

The area was deserted, except for a few drivers who were resting a bit before setting off. It was not sunrise yet.

“I’m going alone,” Holden told Amos and Naomi. They got his silent request to watch his back in case things went south, and their eyes followed him as he walked in the direction of the small group.

Face uncovered, one of them approached him. Of a tall frame, he had pale skin like the members of his race and light blue eyes that seemed to see everything. The other Guardians, a man and a woman, took position by his side. A fourth vampire was in the car, but he did not get out.

“James Holden?”

“What do you want from me?” he asked abruptly.

“Lieutenant Lopez. I was sent by the Archons to escort you and ask you questions about your aggression.”

“And how can I know that it’s not a trap? It is your people that assaulted me and killed my friend. His name was Shed Garvey, in case you give a damn.”

The male Guardian slowly moved his hand toward his belt. The lieutenant tilted his head in his direction. The movement stopped.

“We did not give the order to attack you,” the vampire explained, staying calm and composed. “But if you agree to cooperate, you could help find the real culprits and do your friend justice.”

“There are others with me,” Holden said after a moment. The Guardian glanced in the direction of Amos and Naomi.

“Since they were present during the attack, they are witnesses. They will be heard as such.”

Holden pondered. Although the vampire had implied that they were not going to take them prisoners, there was little doubt as to what they would do if they discovered the case hidden in the car floor. Naomi would be suspected to be a hunter, then judged by the Archons and even maybe by the Elders, and finally certainly condemned. As for him, he would no longer have to worry about the police looking for him because Amos would have torn him to shreds before being also executed. On the other hand, as the female mechanic had pointed out, messing with Guardians would be a terrible idea that would only worsen their situation. If they cooperated, they would at least have the opportunity to explain themselves and be cleared.

After that, maybe everyone would stop trying to have a taste of them.

“We will follow you.”

He returned to the car and informed the two friends. Predictably, Amos was far from being pleased with his decision unlike Naomi. The vampires gathered around them, and despite his reasoning and the certainty that he had made the right call, Holden had the unpleasant feeling that it looked more like a convoy of prisoners than an escort. They noticed that the motorcycles did not turn around and concluded that the Guardians had a base in the city, which would not be very surprising for they operated even outside of their territory.

They were approaching a crossroad when they heard the noise of a motor on their right. Holden had just the time to brake and the lieutenant to turn. A van blocked the road, car doors were opened, and they found themselves under a metallic rain. Naomi immediately ducked down, as well as Holden who protected her with one arm and reversed with the other. The car with tinted windows did the same. The vampires retaliated, taking cover behind their motorcycles. A projectile broke the visor of the female Guardian, who swiftly got rid of her helmet. At the same time, a lycanthrope shot the gas tank of her partner.

“Mole!” she cried upon noticing the lighter in the hand of their assailant.

Alerted, he jumped aside while aiming at the man. The later fell backward; a cloud of fire engulfed the vehicle. The blast was followed by the sound of Naomi’s car colliding violently with the van. Their aggressors threw themselves out of the way, now vulnerable, but enormous wolves sprang from behind the car and they all realized that they had just been buying time for their partners to transform safely.

“Move!” Naomi shouted at Holden as the animal was about to break the windshield and to get to them.

The engine roared furiously. The lycanthrope was deflected from his path, caught in the side by a long, thin blade. The bartender turned to the female vampire who grabbed something at her hip and unfurled it, revealing the same metallic projectile that she quickly plunged into the creature’s heart. She did not notice the object that landed at her feet, not before it was too late. It went off, and she screamed, hit by vapor of holy water that burned her unprotected face. The lieutenant, who had gotten rid of the other werewolf, kicked the device away and shot back at their remaining assailants. That being done, he came to her side and guided her to safety.

“More are coming!” Mole informed, his attention turned to a vehicle that was approaching in the opposite direction.

He took position and aimed. The car abruptly stopped, the front tires punctured. Two men opened fire while three huge wolves rushed at the group. They were quickly met with one that had a blonde fur molted with white. Holden caught Naomi’s worried glance. They both knew that she could not grab a weapon and watch his back or defend herself, for the vampires would then know about the case and get suspicious, which was the last thing they wanted or needed.

“I will help him,” he told her.

However, his feet had barely touched the ground that he was stopped by Lieutenant Lopez. “The two of you, get in our car immediately; we will bring you to the base.”

“We are not going anywhere without Amos,” he protested. “It’s me, him and Naomi or none of us at all.”

“Holden, now is really not the time,” he retorted. “You’re an important witness. We can’t afford to lose you.”

“And so they are, you said so yourself!”

He clenched his jaw, clearly irritated. For a moment, Holden thought that he was going to shove him inside of the car, or even use  suggestion on him to make him comply. Werewolves were less easy to control than humans, but that still worked on them. Nevertheless, the Guardian did nothing of the sort.

“Fine, we won’t leave without him. But get to the car and stay there,” he said in a tone that left little room for discussion. “I will cover you.”

Mole blinded the werewolf with silver powder and shot at him. The creature skidded to a halt, but another seized the opportunity to tackle the vampire from the side. Landing on his back, the vampire rapidly brought up his arm to prevent his opponent from reaching his throat. However, the lycanthrope managed to sank his fangs deeply enough to pass his protections and nibble at his flesh. He fumbled for his weapons with his other hand but that was made difficult with the weight crushing him, until he suddenly found himself able to breathe as Amos grabbed the brown wolf by the scruff of the neck and sent it crash against the van. The animal whimpered, but did not get up. Mole got up and faced the mechanic, who had his eyes riveted on him, a hand hovering over his silver powder. Amos reverted back to his human form and picked up his clothes.

“You’re welcome,” he grunted, joining his friend.

The Guardian took the motorcycle of Grimes who sat down behind him, her burn making her unable to drive. The lieutenant produced several objects from his pockets, and threw them on the scene of the accident.

Flames soared to the sky.


	6. Respite

Naomi swiftly got up as the door opened on Lieutenant Lopez. Her fists clenched a moment before relaxing —to fight him bare handed was not the greatest idea. Besides, she had not been thrown into a cell, meaning that they had no intention to judge her. Which she found a bit odd. Knowing them, they had dug into her past and were aware of what she had been involved in.

“You’re free to go.”

Her gaze went from the Guardian to the entrance. She did not move.

He gave her an encouraging nod, and eyes fixed on him she walked forward warily, half expecting him to announce that he was actually going to bring her before the Archons. A sigh of relief almost escaped her when she spotted Amos who was waiting with Holden. The latter smiled lightly at her, and she found herself returning the gesture. Upon their quick arrival at the base thanks to the dexterity of their driver Alex Kamal, a vampire with a golden brown skin, they had been searched and locked up in separate rooms until they were interrogated. Thus, each of them had been left in the uncertainty as to what happened to the others.

The lieutenant guided them through a maze of corridors that were impossible to tell apart from one another, and stopped in front of a metallic door.

“A vehicle is waiting for you. It will take you wherever you like.”

“Thanks, but we are going on foot,” James answered.

“As you wish,” the taller man eventually replied after scrutinizing him for a brief moment. “We thank you for your cooperation. Have a safe journey.”

The werewolf stared at his outstretched hand, hesitating before gripping it firmly. “Thank you.”

The vampire nodded and watched their retreating forms, careful to stay in the shadows, then joined Lieutenant Sutton, the commanding officer of the Scirocco base. The bald-headed man with a square jaw and gentle, blue eyes was examining the latest reports concerning the people responsible for the attack in Ceres.

“Holden and the others just left. They refused to take the car.”

“I cannot blame them after all they’ve been through. But they should know that that won’t prevent us from locating them if need be.”

He turned to face him and froze upon noticing the bandage enveloping his left hand. This was too fresh to be an injury from his fight with the werewolves.

“Captain Theresa Yao will not be pleased,” he frowned.

The Guardian looked down and clenched his jaw. “Holden refused to talk. He can be quite stubborn when he has to protect his people.”

“Have you learnt something, at least?”

“Holden was attacked after letting the werewolf enter his home so she could tend to her injuries. He does not know that she was Julie Mao, and doesn’t know anything either about the research center. Well, nothing apart from the official version. But now we have a testimony that proves that the female lycanthrope is connected to all of this. According to Holden, she had a backpack with her.”

“Does he know what was inside?”

“No. She didn’t tell him anything; only that any piece of information could get him killed. Julie Mao must be a member of the group that stole the substance. She must have decided to keep it for herself, or she is siding with the hunters. Once her betrayal discovered, her kind tracked her down to Holden’s house, and believing that he was her accomplice, they went after him.”

“I think that it is even more complicated than that,” Lieutenant Sutton said. “One of our teams that investigated on the attack in Ceres informed me that the individuals involved had cut all ties with their clans, and that they were in relation with werewolves or even hunters.”

The younger vampire paused at that. “In relation with werewolves or hunters? Could it be that those werewolves and vampires were actually sent by hunters?”

“That would be the smartest thing to do. While lycanthropes and we would be busy accusing each other, they could retrieve the substance without worrying about being suspected or arrested,” he explained. “I will warn our leaders. We have to find Julie Mao quickly before this conflict turn into a war.”

* * *

 

The apartment let at Naomi’s disposal by her friend was situated not far from downtown and near a vast forest.

A perfect location for a werewolf or someone who had to go unnoticed like a hunter, Holden could not help but remark.

He pushed that thought aside and focused on his surroundings instead. The space, although rather well furnished and comfortable, had not been designed for three persons. They might get tight, not to mention that they did not know for how long they would have to stay there. But the bartender did not care as long as they were safe and had a place to go to.

Amos headed without wasting time to the bathroom to “get rid of that vampire stench that clung to his skin,” while James and Naomi took care of lunch. After everything they had been through, they found a welcome sense of normalcy in the familiarity and casualness of the task. They were neither werewolves nor humans, only three people who met and who were going to spend some time together.

“Thank you,” Holden suddenly said as he was slicing tomatoes.

The young woman, who was waiting for the water to boil in order to pour the pasta, turned to him with a questioning look. “It just occurred to me that I didn’t even say thank you for rescuing me. You didn’t have to.” He paused before adding a bit hesitantly.

“Amos is a werewolf but you’re human. You find yourself caught in this mess while you should have never been involved in the first place.”

It would have been so much easier for her not to intervene, or to drop him at the nearest hotel and let him fend for himself. But that was without counting on her big heart, a quality he admired in her, as well as her strength. He had never seen her break down.

“That’s not your fault, and I know that you would have done the same for me. You proved it when you refused to leave us behind, Amos and I. So, thank you too.”

He was rewarded with that gorgeous smile of hers.

“Where did you put the clothes, boss?”

Naomi faced Amos, who was wrapped in nothing but a towel. The tinge of annoyance that Holden felt at the interruption vanished as soon as his eyes fell on the lines running across the blonde’s torso. Werewolves—and vampires—healed at an increased speed, and unless the injury was serious or inflected when the person was still human, scars were rare.

“On the bed,” she answered without blinking.

Once the food was ready and they had all showered, they sat at the table. Holden was slightly taken aback upon noticing that the two friends were waiting for him to help himself from each of the dishes without touching to anything, and smiled lightly. He had almost forgotten how it was to be in a pack. Their plates filled, Amos and Naomi waited again, their eyes on him. He started to eat; they picked up their cutlery.

“I was wondering, how did the two of you met exactly?” Holden inquired.

The surrounding changed, and the female mechanic suddenly found herself in Lovell City.

It’s dark, she is on her way to her small apartment when passing by a back alley she hears noise. She comes to a halt, scrutinizing the shadows, her hand in her bag. There is someone there, probably a man judging from the build, although she cannot tell with certainty as the person is slumped against the wall, partly hidden because of the dim light. She takes a step forward.

A growl more animal than human echoes in the air between them.

Her hand tightens around her silver plated gun.

She would have certainly turned around had she not noticed the dark stains on the ground and his clothing.

“I knocked on her door one evening, wounded and bleeding all over her doormat,” Amos deadpanned, bringing her back to the present.

The bartender chuckled upon recognizing the reference to the lycanthrope that everyone seemed to be looking for.

“You ruined her life, too?”

“Only my social life and my savings,” the Belter answered. “I feel like I’m feeding an army.”

They laughed at the joke, unable to deny that they consumed much more food than humans because of the significant amount of energy they needed.

“To answer your questions, we met totally by chance. He was in trouble, I helped him and we became fast friends, never leaving each other’s side.”

“It must have been quite a shock for you, to discover that werewolves exist.”

“Yes, you can say so. Speaking of that, it’s tonight you’re turning, right?”

Holden nodded.

“Is your fur black?” she inquired with curiosity.

He looked at her, startled. “Yes, how do you know that?”

“I noticed that your fur tended to be of the same color than your hair.”

“You’re observant. But determining the eye color is not that easy.”

“How are they, yours?”

“How about you try guessing?” he smiled. He felt Amos’ gaze bore into him. He ignored him.

“Challenge accepted, Holden.” She studied his face, recalling the colors she had seen in wolves. “I would say orange or light brown.”

“Almost. They are golden.” He showed her, and saw the wonder in her eyes.

Amos stood up abruptly and started clearing the table, soon imitated by them. Holden hoped that their outing would go well. He had enough problems as it was; he did not need to have to handle a difficult or jealous werewolf on top of that.

 

* * *

 

 A plate of pancakes that were precariously piled up filled Naomi’s view. The mechanic silently sat down across from her.

“The night was good?” she asked, careful to keep her voice low.

James, lying on the couch, was still asleep.

Her friend simply grunted, and took a generous portion of pancake under her amused gaze. He had never been a morning person and the days following the full moon did not help. Thus, she let him quietly emerge from his sleep.

“We shouldn’t stay with him,” he murmured, breaking the silence. “That guy attracts nothing but trouble and it’s his business, not ours. We don’t even know him.”

The brow of the Belter creased into a frown. “We can’t leave him like that, Amos. He might still be in danger. And I thought that werewolves helped each other?”

He listened to the bartender’s breathing before continuing. “We should have never been released by the vampires, but here we are. Maybe he agreed to give them information about us, waiting for the right moment to get us arrested.”

“What, he would be spying on us? Amos, you can’t be serious.”

“How can you be so sure that they did not tell him about you?”

“We are not going to leave him. And I refuse to have this conversation again,” she stated.

He gave her a long look, noticing the gleam of incertitude in her eyes. “We’ll do it your way, boss.”

They each turned their attention to their plates. She did not resent him for thinking this way; she knew that he just wanted to keep her safe and that he was worried, although he showed none of it.

She also knew that he would take action if he deemed Holden a threat. Hopefully, they would not come to that.

 

* * *

 

Chrisjen Avasarala lifted her eyes from her paperwork as she suddenly picked up the scent of a werewolf inside of her office.

“Knocking on doors is still a foreign idea to you.”

“In my line of work, discretion is everything,” Cotyar replied, sitting down without being invited to do so. “And recently knocking on the door means trouble.”

She closely watched the square-faced man sporting a bear and dark, shaved hair. “What do you have for me?”

“Holden was attacked in Ceres and escaped with the help of a human, Naomi Nagata and another werewolf, Amos Burton. But before that, he received the visit of none other than Julie Mao.”

“Julie Mao? What did she want from him?”

“She was hurt; she asked for his help.”

She frowned. “Hurt? Why?”

“We think that she was involved in the accident at the pharmaceutical center.”

“The vampires that went after Holden were actually tracking her down," she thought aloud. “Whatever she stole, that must be important; otherwise they would have never grown agitated and screwed up with Holden like that. Naturally, they told us that they did not give the order to interrogate Holden or attack him, but they are far from stupid. You don’t tell something that will make you appear fucking incompetent.”

“They must think the same,” he quietly commented.

Some hours ago, the Archons had summoned the Council. Holden, escorted by several Guardians, had been attacked. Again. How a single person could create such an enormous mess was a wonder. Sadavir Errinwright had claimed that they had nothing to do with that, and that they were actively investigating. They had sounded exactly like them. The female councilor had remarked that someone was obviously trying to trigger a war between them, and that now was maybe the time to fully work together instead of acting like children refusing to share toys. Their homologues had simply replied that they were thinking about an implication of Fred Johnson and the hunters. That would be sensible.

But that would mean that Julie Mao betrayed them.

She was also bothered by the fact that they did not order those werewolves to attack the bartender. Why would they try to kill him? And there was also Sadavir; the man had not said anything about Julie Mao and it seemed highly improbable that Holden omitted to tell him about her when he contacted him. He was hiding things from her. But why?

“Find what she stole from them. We can’t count on those pointed-teeth to tell us.”

“And Holden?”

She smiled. “I heard that Montana is gorgeous at this time of the year.”


	7. Those who protect

Holden gathered them around the table. Two days had passed since their arrival at Ganymede, and although they all appreciated the calm and quiet they had to figure out what to do next.

“We might stay here for weeks or even months,” he said. “At some point we will have to pay the bills and what we need. Besides, a job would keep us busy.”

“I don’t know if I will be able to take your weird babbling any longer,” Amos agreed.

Naomi bit back a smile. Living under the same roof got them to see each other in a different way. She and the mechanic had learned that Holden tended to ramble awkwardly when he was bored, which she found quite endearing. As for the bartender, he discovered that she occupied herself by taking apart appliances just to put them back together. He had watched her work on multiple occasions, observed how she was patient and focused, neatly lining up on the table components that formed a whole she was the only one to understand. All the devices in the apartment had already fallen between her thin and deft hands.

Except for the coffee machine; she had not touched it even once.

“You’re right, but I think we should wait a bit more before starting to look for jobs,” she replied. “We still have some money left.”

If they had been cleared of any suspicion and that the werewolves and vampires were now both aware of what had truly occurred, they were not reckless enough to believe themselves out of danger or trouble. They had to remain cautious.

“I agree,” Amos said. “Better lay low a bit longer, wait for things to calm down.”

As if to mock them, someone slammed their fist against the door. The whole room froze.

Muscles tensed, Amos walked soundlessly to the door as only a werewolf was able to do, and sniffed.

“Human,” he whispered to Holden.

The latter refrained from sighing. There had been vampires, werewolves…it would not have been funny without hunters.

“Do you smell silver?”

The tattooed man shook his head. The knocking resumed, this time more forceful. James truly felt for the door.

“NYPD. I know you’re in there Holden, I just want to talk. I’m looking for the daughter of a wealthy businessman who apparently ran away from home, and I have every reason to believe that it is connected to your aggression.”

 _Your aggressions_ , the dark-haired man mentally corrected.

He opened the door a few inches —that certainly made him look suspicious but who could really blame him after what he went through?— and was once again nose to nose with the mysterious lycanthrope.

“You know her?” the stranger asked. He wore a hat under which disappeared dark blonde strands on one side, the other half of his head being shaved.

There was only a Belter to sport such a hairstyle and be a policeman.

“I didn’t catch your name.”

“Detective Joe Miller.” He waved the photograph at him. “You’ve seen her? It’s Juliette Andromeda Mao.”

Realization dawned on him.

“You know her,” the detective concluded. “Why did she come to your house?”

Holden had the impression to be back in the underground room of the Scirocco base, being interrogated by Lieutenant Lopez. However, the man in front of him had a behavior and a gaze far less disconcerting than those of the Guardian who could deduce any information from the most imperceptible of frowns. His slightly droopy eyes, of a green color mixed with brown, gave him a sad air and he could read in them the dreams that would never come to be, those that had shattered, and the profound wariness of a man who had seen the worst of what this world could produce and too little of the wonders it had to offer.

“We’re not friends; I just welcomed her so she could take care of her injuries. She left after that. She seemed to be chased.”

“By whom?”

Well, hunters maybe, or vampires.

“I don’t know,” he replied.

“It was the same individuals that showed up later?”

“Maybe. We did not really chat over tea, you see.”

“Anything else?”

I don’t know how you found us but now we will have to move because of you, so thank you from the bottom of my heart, really.

“She had a bag that she always kept with her. I don’t know what was inside.”

“Why did you run away? You had incapacitated all of your aggressors.”

“You’re kidding, right? They wanted to kill me!”

“How can you be so sure about that?”

“I don’t think they put their guns into my face so I could admire them,” he snapped.

“You will have to tell me everything from the beginning. You don’t mind?” he said, gesturing for him to let him enter. “I will also have to hear Mr. Amos Burton and Miss Nagata.”

Holden let out a brief, frustrated sigh, but complied. The Belter tipped his hat at the two friends who exchanged a quick glance, and took a seat.

“So, on the night you were assaulted you were with your friend, Shed Garvey.”

“Yes. We were playing when someone knocked on the door. I answered, and there were one man and a woman who I had never seen in my life. They didn’t give me their names.”

“They were from the police?”

He hesitated for a second, hoping that the Belter was not aware that they had no insignia on them when they were found. Usually, the Guardians intervened before the arrival of the police to erase anything that would seem odd. But as they did not know the circumstances of the aggression, they had been unable to set up everything accordingly.

If they went to his apartment at all.

“At least, that’s what they told me.” Not exactly a lie, and that did not matter as he would not be able to check.

“What did they want?”

“They showed a photo of Julie Mao. I didn’t know that it was her at the time because I only know her by name, and they didn’t tell me her identity. They said that they were looking for her because she stole something.”

“From where and who?”

“I don’t know.”

“Any idea of what that could be?”

He shook his head. Miller’s eyebrows disappeared under his hat. He had seen witnesses who were more helpful.

“And after that?” he continued.

“I told them that I did not know anything else but they insisted. I tried to close the door, when two men broke the windows of the living room and attacked my friends. They started shooting at me.”

“And you stabbed them with the table legs.”

He shrugged. “That was the first thing I could find. I wounded one with his weapons.”

“That table was made of oak; you must be quite strong.” From the corner of his eye, he saw the big guy shuffle on his feet.

“You would be surprised of what you are capable of in that kind of situation,” the bartender calmly answered.

“And the other two? It was also you?”

“No. Amos came and dealt with the man who was attacking me. After that, we left.”

“In the car driven by Miss Nagata, I take. A kaki Chevrolet pickup.”

“Yes. I was waiting for them outside.”

“That still doesn’t tell me what happened to one of the aggressors. He had marks of bites and claws on him.”

He waited for an answer, but Holden stayed silent. “Let me guess, you don’t know?”

“We left immediately,” Amos cut in. “We were not going to hang around to find out if there were more of them.”

The old detective turned his full attention to him and Naomi. “Why did you help Holden? You know each other?”

“No,” the female mechanic replied. “We have arrived in Ceres only recently.”

“When exactly?”

“A few days before the accident,” she was forced to admit.

“Why did you choose to settle in that city and at that moment?”

“Because of an opportunity. The manager was retiring, and I have always been looking for a garage to manage,” she replied, looking at him right in the eyes.

“And how did you know that Holden needed help?”

“We were on our way to celebrate the starting of our business at the Knight, and then we heard gunshots.”

“The hour?”

“Close to one in the morning,” she replied, remembering what Holden had told her one night when they were alone.

He made a non committal noise.

“Are you going to arrest us?” Holden inquired.

“There seems to be self-defense, and for now I have no reason to but in case I have more questions do not leave the country or better, the state. You can also benefit from our witness protection till the trial during which you will be heard.”

“Thanks, but it will be alright.”

He gave him a pointed look. “You’re sure?”

“Certain. Are we done here?”

“Yes. Thank you for your time. I will contact you if I have more questions.”

Holden had barely closed the door that Amos was on him. “Why did you open?” he reproached him. “He could be on the side of the guys who want us dead! There’s no better cover than a cop! And you involved a human! That Miller is not stupid; he can tell that we are hiding something.”

“What did you want me to do? He would have been even more suspicious if I hadn’t,” he countered.

The mechanic was about to retort when his friend cut in. “He’s right. More importantly, the girl he is looking for, it’s also the one the vampires are after?”

“Her father rules over the north of the east coast,” Amos said.

Naomi’s eyes widened. “They are werewolves?”

“Yes. Their son and daughters were born as werewolves” Holden confirmed.

Such occurrence was rare among their people because of the stress endured by the body of female lycanthropes during the full moon transformations, which could jeopardize the baby’s life. Many did not survive, which was why a child born werewolf was considered a blessing, regardless of his rank, and that males whose lovers were human and pregnant  waited for them to deliver before turning them. But even then, there were risks. If the child inherited his father's genes and was a werewolf like him, his needs were higher than that of a human, which made the pregnancy more demanding and exhausting, and since not every human was strong enough and that was hard to tell sometimes, some werewolves chose not to take risks and remained without descendants. They refused to put themselves in a situation where they might have to choose between the life of the baby and that of the mother, knowing full well that their instinct would compel them to save their progeny. The most usual way to extend a werewolf pack was then to bite willing humans, who then became new members if they survived and were successful in controlling their wolf side.

“If vampires are after her, it could worsen the tensions and trigger a war,” Amos remarked.

“It’s too late; she’s accused of having stolen something that belongs to them,” Holden objected. “No wonder why everyone tried to get rid of me after her visit. And now humans and the police are getting dragged into this mess.”

“It’s not our business; it’s the role of the Council to deal with this. We, we have to stay alive. We should leave immediately. If that Miller found us, it won’t be long before others do.”

“And where would we go?” Naomi inquired. “It was the last place I knew that was safe. We can’t go to Eros, it’s where the hunters are.”

“We could leave the state, or even the country.”

“I have another solution,” Holden stated. “We could go to my father. He’s the alpha of the northern packs.”

 

* * *

 

Seated on the bench, he watched families that went out to enjoy the sunny afternoon. Snatches of irrelevant conversations and children’s laughter reached him.

So much innocence. So many who were oblivious to the danger lurking.

He observed them more closely. How many of them were those abominations? Was it that old lady, despite her frail appearance? Or rather that athletic man with his arm around his girlfriend’s waist? Did she know what he really was?

The line of his mouth twisted. They had been suffering from their attacks for centuries. It was high time someone taught them that humans were neither toys nor an unlimited buffet.

And it was not Fred Johnson who was going to do something about it.

He was pulled from his thoughts by Anderson Dawes joining him.

“I received the report of the mission. None of our men survived, and Holden got away again. He was accompanied by four Guardians. They are all alive, although one was wounded.”

Marco Inaros’ fists clenched. First he was informed that Holden had not been taken care of as he ordered and that he received the help of a werewolf and Naomi Nagata —of all people it had to be that woman!— and now that he escaped and was still breathing?

“I made sure that nobody can trace them back to us, even if I doubt there is much left,” he continued. “Considering the Guardians’ habit to keep their existence and eventually that of werewolves secret, the bodies must have been burnt. According to my information, Holden and his friends are in the city of Ganymede.”

“Leave them, that doesn’t matter anymore; the vampires must know everything already about what happened with that werewolf. Inform me as soon as you have the location of Julie Mao, or that she contacts Fred Johnson. And this time, I won’t tolerate failure.”


	8. Back to the origins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and thank you to the person who subscribed!

“I’ve got news,” Havelock announced from across his desk right in front of Miller’s, drawing the attention of the detective.

Even when they were not on the field, he had to have him under his nose. As if he following him everywhere was not enough.

“There has been a fire at the pharmaceutical research center Phoebe Corps a few days ago in Massachusetts, very close to the border. Since we still don’t know where Julie Mao was coming from when she went to Holden, I thought that it would not hurt to take a look,” he explained. “Nobody among the scientists or the staff managed to escape, but the police found two bodies too many, male and with bullet wounds; they have not been indentified yet. I’m sharing this because that could have a link with our investigation, since—”

“Since Julie Mao had a backpack with her and is apparently being accused of theft,” he finished. The younger man from Oregon nodded.

“Something was declared missing?”

“That’s hard to tell. Damage is extensive and the computers fried. All of them.”

Miller’s expression turned pensive, and he abruptly stood up, walking past his partner’s desk to stop in front of a detailed map of New York on which several areas had been delimited. He drew a line from the neighboring state to the city of Ceres, next to the photo of the Asian woman.

“She goes to the compound with two partners to steal something. This is supposed to be a quick mission but they are busted. From there, things go downhill pretty fast. The security agents try to stop them. They don’t manage to flee except for her, though she is injured. She covers her tracks with a fire, disguising everything as an accident to buy herself some time until anyone realize what truly occurred,” he reflected. “Then, she goes to Ceres and asks Holden for help, which he provides, before going God knows where. Later, Holden is attacked by the men who were after her because they assumed he was her accomplice, forcing him to leave Ceres.” He tapped the photo of the bartender placed near the city of Ganymede.

“That would make perfectly sense,” Dimitri commented. “This research center worked on a cure for cancer. You think she stole the formula or even a sample, so it could be reproduced and sold to countries that need it and could not afford it otherwise? Her father did tell us that the group she belonged to was composed of activists fighting capitalism. And what is better than targeting the pharmaceutical business?”

“It’s possible. I assume we don’t have any recording, otherwise I would already be looking at them?”

“The entire video surveillance system was offline, including the cameras outside of the building.”

“A vehicle?”

“None, except for those of the employees. The officers in charge of the case think that they stopped in the vicinity and did the rest on foot. They are still searching. I’m going to ask them if they did any progress.”

Miller found himself alone in front of the wall, lost in his musing. It was a bit surprising that they would walk when a car parked near the facility allowed them to leave rapidly, diminishing the chance for them to be arrested, and although the deduction of his partner was sound, something bothered him. He was deeply convinced that Julie Mao was not that kind of person that takes innocent lives like that or condemns someone to burn alive. There was something that escaped their attention, something that they were not seeing yet.

He came nearer to the photograph of the businessman’s daughter. “Where are you?” he whispered, brushing it with his fingertips.

Havelock, who was on the phone, glanced curiously at the Belter as the latter headed to the IT department and came to a halt near the desk of a woman with smooth, long hair tied in a ponytail, and of the same color than the ocean under a night without stars.

“It’s for the Julie Mao case again?” she guessed.

“I need you to find matches between the persons who have been missing in the past two weeks and the members of Far Horizons Foundation.”

If Julie Mao’s partners both lived in Ceres, considering what had befallen them they were certainly reported as missing.

His colleague not moving, he frowned. “There’s a problem?”

“What do we say?” she replied in a sing-song voice.

“Please, Sam.” The expert smiled broadly, and her fingers started flying over the keyboard. Miller’s heart hammered in his chest when she called him less than an hour later.

“Found them!” On the screen, she showed him a man with dark hair, almond eyes and light brown skin, and another who was pale and thin-faced.

“Wan Li, thirty years old, from Ganymede. He went to the same university than Julie Mao and was part of an association. And this is Bizi Betiko, twenty five, from Ceres.”

This was how he must have approached and recruited her, the old detective thought. Now, all he needed was a proof that connected them to each other; being part of the same group or having frequented the same campus was not enough.

After thanking the young woman, he went back to his seat and started skimming through the mails they had retrieved from Julie Mao’s laptop. Among the confirmations for the date and location of the car races she had taken part in, the invitations to family diners—all ignored—and the tremendous amount of messages from her father which had been sent back with an answer that would have made Miller in his foulest mood appear perfectly charming before being ignored as well, one caught the attention of the old detective. It was addressed to Wan Li.

 

_Remember that dating website I talked you about?_

_I’ve found a guy who seems rather decent, who knows what he wants and who is not afraid of commitment. We agreed to meet each other._

_Since you’ll probably freak out that I end up with some weird guy —should I remind you my level in jiu jitsu?— and do it anyway, I allow you to drive me to the date and watch over us._

_But from afar._

 

To the old detective, that looked very much like her informing him that she found another partner for their mission and that Wan Li had been charged with driving them, meaning they did have a vehicle.

“Missed me already?” Sam joked upon seeing him approaching.

“From what I’ve found, Julie Mao recently subscribed on a dating website and met a guy whom she doesn’t name but I suspect that he is.”

“I’ll check immediately.”

He stayed by her side, and after a few moments of research she found the site and Julie Mao’s dating profile, which then gave them access to that of her recent date.

Age:25.

Sex: male.

Status: single.

Orientation: pansexual.

Diet: vegan.

Drugs: seldom.

The dark brown hair was longer, but it was without doubt Bizi Betiko.

Sam arched an eyebrow. Who put "I will be your Sherpa" in his or her profile?

“I didn’t know that website. I think I should have a closer look,” she commented, a smile on her lips.

“Don’t you already have a girlfriend?”

Her laugh echoed loudly in the air as he left.

 

* * *

 

The noise of a blade chopping wood reached them, bouncing off the rocky flanks. Holden abruptly came to a halt, mimicked by Amos who stretched an arm in front of Naomi. The latter followed their gazes, and made out the silhouette of a gray wolf against the trees. A few moments passed, and the group was moving again. Soon, they only heard the sound of their breathings and the screeching of the snow. A middle-aged woman clad in plaid shirt and jeans emerged from behind the house that bore a resemblance to a small chalet. As the bartender arrived at her level near the stairs, the front door was pushed open, revealing a man with hair whitened by the years. Holden turned to him, eyes riveted to the ground, and bowed his head. He felt the werewolf envelop him with his power, a contact that was light yet undeniably there, like a hand on the surface of water.

“Welcome,” he said.

James bowed and went to his mother, Elise Holden. His lips stretched into a smile as he embraced her, inhaling that scent mixing the fresh and cutting notes of snow with those more pronounced of pine and earth. She hugged him back with the same strength. He stepped back almost reluctantly.

“Father, Mother, this is Amos and Naomi. They are my friends,” he said, motioning for them to draw nearer.

The Belter and the mechanic placed themselves next to him and reproduced his gestures. The couple sniffed the air, and their eyes widened slightly. A human.

“Does she know?” Tom asked.

“Yes. Amos and she know each other for a long time.”

“I suppose that explains why she’s here when she is not the lover of either of you.”

Holden briefly glanced at Naomi whose expression remained stoic. His father turned to the blond-haired man, who felt his power probing at him. He did not react and patiently waited.

“To which pack do you belong?” the alpha enquired.

“None. I live alone with Naomi. She’s family.”

Lying was futile. Amos was aware that it had taken him only a few seconds to remark the absence of pack bond between him and Holden, or anyone else for that matter. The werewolf stayed silent, his light colored eyes scrutinizing him.

“Come inside, so I know what business brings you around those parts,” he eventually said. “And your human is going to turn to ice if she stays out there any longer.”

Holden’s entire body relaxed.

Upon entering, the Belter realized that the house was larger than what the exterior had led her to assume. Tiles in the same brown tones than those of the framework and the furniture—all made out of wood—covered the floor, bringing out the wall composed of large stones in which a hearth had been pierced. The young woman could easily see herself sat in one of the sturdy, leather armchairs, a cushion at her back, enjoying a fuming tea and a joyful fire while snow fell slowly. She smiled and refrained from reaching out when she noticed a photograph of Holden as a child, dark curly hair almost getting into his eyes and a carefree smile on his face. Other pictures of him and his family were scattered across the room.

“I’ll show you where you can rest,” Elised said, snapping her out of her contemplation. “Follow me, please.”

The two friends complied without a word, leaving the leader of the pack alone in the living-room with his son.

“Not long ago, we received the visit of Chrisjen Avasarala,” Tom informed him without preamble.

“What did she want?”

“Know who you were and what your connection with Julie Mao was. I assume that it has something to do with the reason you’re accompanied by a lone werewolf and a Clear-sighted?”

Holden hold back a sigh of frustration. He was beginning to grow tired of all of this. “I’ve already explained that I had nothing to do with her. Sadavir Errinwright knows it and so do the vampires.”

His words were followed by a short pause, and at the long look his father gave him he suddenly realized what he had just said. He swore internally.

“So, the rumors are true,” he said slowly. “Their people and ours have been agitated. Your name is on everyone’s lips.”

Then, James told him everything, the visit of the lycanthrope, his aggression, the loss of his friend and the way Amos and Naomi helped him escape, without forgetting their interrogations by the Guardians and the human.

“We have been cleared, but we still need somewhere safe to stay.”

“And you came here.”

The dark-haired man nodded, confident. Tom could not say no to his son who was in danger.

“I’m sorry, but you and your friends cannot stay here.”

“What?” he breathed, completely bewildered. “But I’ve just told you that we don’t have anywhere else safe to go to!”

“You said that it had been established that you were not the accomplice of Julie Mao, didn’t you?”

“Tell that to the werewolves who attacked the Guardians and us!”

“As an alpha you have to take your responsibilities and to fend for yourself. I won’t be cleaning your mess for the rest of my life,” the lycanthrope replied, unblinking.

Holden clenched his fists, giving him a hard look. “So this is what it is all about, isn’t it? You kick me out so I can learn?”

“By welcoming you, I put the whole pack in danger,” he retorted. “You can’t just turn your back on us and then expect us to help you whenever you need, without condition.”

“Should I remind you that the first time I left it was against my will?” he remarked in a calmer yet determined tone. “And you know that very well.”

Tom’s grip on the chair tightened. He struck his chin thoughtfully, and after a moment of reflection replied in a sigh.

“Fine, you and your friends can stay here. But I hope you are aware of the favor I’m giving you.”

Holden bowed his head. “Thank you, Father. I won’t forget.”

“Still, you could have warned us instead of showing up announced.”

“I couldn’t risk the call to be traced. They would have found us before we even had the chance to arrive here. That would also have drawn their attention to you.”

Tom grumbled and looked sharply at him. “I haven’t changed my mind after all those years. My proposition is still standing.”

His son slightly shook his head. “Not now, Father, I can’t. The situation is far too complicated. But I will keep that in mind, I promise.”

See so many people prepare diner reminded of the werewolf his days spent among his kin, when he was younger. He was still in contact with almost all of the adults that had raised him and the other children of the pack, considering them also as his parents.

“Where do you come from?” Elise asked Naomi while her husband gave her one of the dishes.

“I was born in Ceres, but I grew up in Eros,” she replied. “I came back there with Amos only recently.”

“Where were you before?”

“In Lovell City. Amos and I met there.”

“You live together, if I’ve understood correctly?”

“Yes, and they are colleagues,” Holden replied before the Belter had the chance to do so. “They took over the garage, downtown. It’s called Rocinante, now.”

“You seem to have a common interest with my son,” she smiled. “ _Don Quixote_ is his favorite book.”

“Actually, this is Amos’ finding.” She turned her attention to the tattooed man, who so far had stayed silent.

“Are you born in The Belt, too?”

“No. I come from Baltimore.”

“That must not have been easy, growing up there,” Holden’s father commented.

Some districts of the city were sadly famous for their high criminality rates, and the violence between groups often hid territorial wars between werewolves. No wonder that the blonde’s first reflex was to use his fists. Amos shrugged.

“That depends on where you are.”

After they finished eating, Naomi withdrew for the night, her thoughts focused on the bed that was awaiting her after all those hours spent on the plane and then in the car to reach Holden’s home. She changed her plans upon noticing the bartender, who was sitting on the steps outside. He acknowledged her with a smile as she joined him, before turning his attention back to the night sky.

"Do you know why the cities all around New York are called The Belt?"

"Because they are all around New York?" he answered with a smirk.

She shook her head, a smile on her lips. "That refers to Orion's belt."

“Three stars; three cities. I should have known," he said. "You don’t see them as clearly in Ceres. Too much light. I missed gazing at them.”

“I understand; this place is gorgeous.”

They were surrounded by tall trees draping the feet of the stately mountains that soared toward the sky, their snowy summits whispering to the stars. It was peaceful, breathtaking. It was a place where nature still reigned freely.

Werewolves truly felt at home only in wild, vast expanses of lands unlike vampires who favored big cities, the latter offering them a rich night life.

The young woman startled as something suddenly touched her shoulders, but realizing that it was Holden’s vest, she relaxed.

“Thank you,” she said. “I must admit that I’ve always been jealous of your ability to walk around in shirts no matter how cold the weather is.”

“I’ve heard that we are much appreciated as personal heaters in winter,” he joked before turning more serious. “I’m sorry for the interrogation earlier.”

His intervention to put a stop to the questions, or even the way he redirected his mother’s attention toward Amos had not been lost on the female mechanic.

“It’s nothing,” she replied. “Your parents don’t know me, after all, and I’m a human. Besides, after the vampires I think I can handle your mother’s questioning.”

“I can assure you that she can be as intimidating as them, if not more. Especially when she’s furious.”

He told her about the time he sneaked out to join the adults who left to hunt, although it had been forbidden to him because of his young age. After an admonition in front of the whole pack, he had been grounded for days.

“You can’t sleep?” Naomi asked softly, breaking the silence that had settled as they admired the spectacle above their heads.

“I can’t stop thinking about everything that happened,” he confided. “I still don’t understand why werewolves tried to kill us. Vampires, it’s not very surprising, but my own people? And coming here does not bring back only happy memories.”

She understood at his expression that he had lost someone he loved. “I’ve been married, a long time ago,” she revealed. “I’ve even had a son.”

He stared at her with astonishment. Being only slightly older than her—well, according to human standards—and not having a family of his won, it did not occur to him that it could have been her case.

“Divorce didn’t go well and I didn’t manage to get his custody. I haven’t seen my son in years.”

Holden looked for words, but was unable to find any. He did not know how to comfort her, how to tell her that he understood how she felt despite their situations being different. After a moment of hesitation, he tentatively took her hand and squeezed it, his eyes riveted on her. And after a moment, her eyes boring into his, she slowly squeezed his hand back.


	9. Truth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the kudos!

He wrapped himself further in his jacket, his hands digging deeply in his pocket, his back bent. The tip of his ears was tingling, certainly as red as his nose which he did not feel anymore. If only he had a cap, or a hat, like the nice ones displayed in that shop he noticed on his way to high school. He could already imagine himself older, wearing an alluring dark, porkpie hat.

A smile brushed his lips. How awesome that would be!

He glanced at the cars stretching into a line along the sidewalk. Maybe he could try his luck and sleep somewhere that was a bit more comfortable than a doorstep. In any case, there was no way he was going back to this foster family to which he was nothing but a burden, a useless mouth to feed.

Stepping further into the shadows of the street where he would be less exposed, he examined the vehicles, searching for old models—with his rigid hands, he did not have the patience or the possibility to deal with more complex locking systems—and found what he was looking for. After some struggling, he heard a triumphant clicking sound and slipped inside of the car.

His eyes snapped open as screams and what could only be defined as growls pierced the air. He did not recall any dog sounding like that. His heart drumming against his ribcage, he crawled to the window and carefully peeked out. On the wall in front of him, projected by the dim streetlights, there was the silhouette of a giant animal biting and clawing at someone. The hair of his arms rose. Every fiber of his body screamed for him to move away and hide, but he discovered that his limbs were no longer responding. What if he turned away even for a second only to find that the creature was now behind him?

And so he stayed there, willing himself into an immobility that rivaled with that of the crowned lady towering over the water in Manhattan which he once visited.

Suddenly, the growling ceased. But instead of being a relief, what followed was far more disturbing. The body of the animal jerked, the limbs pointing abruptly at odd angles in snapping sounds, as if something was destroying it from the inside. After several minutes that seemed painfully long, the silhouette became still.

He released the breath he had not realized he was holding and drew back, when movement caught his eye.

The shadow stood up with a grunt. The shadow was a man.

 

Miller woke up with a start, sending documents fly in every direction.

Squeezing his eyes shut, he pinched the bridge of his nose and focused on his breathing. Once he was collected and his mind clear, he picked up the papers and put them back in the file of Julie Mao. A glance at his watch told him that it was still a bit early to go to work, but he did not have the heart to try falling back to sleep. The documents under his arm, he grabbed the hat adorned with a small feather on the side, and headed out of his apartment.

* * *

 

Holden let out a content sigh as the coffee was poured, the strong and rich smell filling his being. Honestly, he did not know how he would have managed if he were a vampire. He would have probably been unable to resist the impulse to taste it despite knowing that he should avoid doing so, thus ending up sick and then miserable. Because to him, it was unconceivable that blood could replace this drink.

Once the machine was finished he patted the latter affectionately, as if rewarding it for not failing him or for the service, before sitting down across from Amos and Naomi who were both poorly concealing their amusement.

“What?”

“Nothing,” they replied in unison, a broad smile  on their faces.

The werewolf suggested that they spend the morning taking a walk, which would be the occasion for the two mechanics to discover the area. The idea was met with enthusiasm, and moments later they were all prepared and ready to go.

They took in the nature surrounding them, appreciating the cold, invigorating air until everything go awry and they find themselves in the middle of a battlefield. As usual, it all started with Holden.

The latter, passing low branches capped with a thick layer of fresh snow that was too tempting to ignore, discreetly fell to the back of the group and approached the trees.

Naomi was interrupted in the middle of her sentence by something cold and soft hitting her back.

Swiftly turning around, she spotted Holden a few meters away from them, a playful smile tugging at his lips and obviously very proud of himself. However, his smug expression swiftly vanished when his face became suddenly caked in white. Wiping the snow away, he saw Amos pinning him under his steely blue that had become brighter, a second projectile in hand.

Holden grinned.

When they went back to the chalet, they were more or less covered in white and laughing, a sound that felt almost foreign after what they had been through in just a few days.

“Wait…” Holden murmured as he gently took Naomi’s arm and turned her around.

She gave him a puzzled look, and slowly raising his arm, the werewolf proceeded to delicately remove the snow that was caught in her dark curly hair. He wanted to slip his fingers into her locks, to truly feel their soft texture, but controlled himself and stepped away once he was done.

“Thank you,” she said before adding with a smile. “Although this is your fault in the first place.”

“And you’ve got your revenge, if I recall correctly.”

During their fight, the Belter had allied herself with Amos—a wise decision when dealing with two werewolves while being human—and as her friend had managed at some point to catch the son of the alpha, she had slipped snow inside of his clothing and down his back. Lycanthropes did not feel the cold as sharply as humans, but his small yelp had still been greatly satisfying.

They all froze and turned in the direction of the door when the latter was abruptly pushed open. Tom dropped several bags on top of the steps, which Holden recognized with surprise as theirs. His brow creasing into a frown, he took in the hard line formed by the werewolf’s mouth and the furious gleam in his eyes.

“What is going on?” he inquired cautiously as he made a few steps toward him, all joyfulness gone.

“Your friends and you need to leave. Now.”

He had barely finished his sentence that Amos grabbed Naomi’s hand. The young woman noted that his body had imperceptibly moved to tilt forward, and his shoulders were now hunched. Apprehension settled in her belly like a rock, but she forced herself to stay calm.

“Why? Are we in danger? Do you have new information?” Holden continued.

“Oh yes, you can say so,” the older man replied, slowly walking down the stairs. “It seems that you forgot to tell me that I have welcomed a hunter into my house.”

Two sudden poundings filled Holden’s ears. Glancing above his shoulder, he saw that the mechanic’s steely blue was now of the same color than the sky in a morning of winter. His eyes then met those of Naomi, whom Amos had placed behind him. There, he saw worry, confusion and incertitude, but also something that took him aback—trust. And as he replied, not looking away from her, the rich, brown depths were tinged by surprise.

“I know.”

Tom’s nostrils flared. “You _knew_? And you still brought her here?”

“I know that she is or was a hunter, yes,” he confirmed, stepping back toward the female mechanic. “I had some suspicions myself and the Guardians told me so during my interrogation.”

A deep rumble went up from Amos’ chest, which was answered by a growl from the leader of the pack.

“Nobody is going to attack anybody,” Holden immediately exclaimed, arms stretched between them, before addressing his father.

“As I told you I owe Amos and Naomi my life. Do you really think that he would stay with her if she was a hunter, or that I would still be alive?”

“You have always been naive despite my efforts to make you see this world as it really is,” the latter scoffed. “You are more useful to her alive, James! Look for yourself, now she knows the location of an alpha! As for your other friend,” he spat, “Maybe he stays with her because he has been turned against his will and does not want to be judged by the Elders, which is why he is hiding. And I am ready to bet whatever you want that Amos Burton is not his true identity.”

Silence followed his declaration. Holden looked quietly at him.

“The Guardians also told you that,” Tom understood before adding with narrowed eyes. “They would have never released you if they knew. Unless you work for them.”

The tattooed man’s attention shifted from the older lycanthrope to the bartender. Naomi’s fingers came to rest lightly on his arm.

“Amos, please, calm down,” she whispered. “You’re only making things worse.”

Holden quickly faced the two friends, his hands raised in a placating gesture. “I don’t work for them. They let you go because I refused to tell anything to Lieutenant Lopez until I had the assurance that nothing would happen to any of you.”

The mechanic scoffed. This was so like Holden to make someone swear something and assume that they would keep their word.

How did he manage to stay alive this long? Oh, wait, they saved him.

“That does not mean anything at all,” he retorted.

“Not if he is bound by duty and honor.”

A short pause followed his statement.

“Are you saying that…” Naomi began, eyes wide.

“I made him swear an oath on his blood and on the honor of his clan,” he explained before continuing with a light smile. “And if his behavior is of any indication, he would rather walk in the light of the sun than bring dishonor upon his brothers and sisters, as well as himself, by breaking that promise.”

The rock in her belly melted.

“That does not change anything for them,” Holden’s father objected.

Naomi straightened and stepped forward despite Amos’ disapproving look, her eyes riveted on the alpha. “I am not a hunter,” she stated. “I have never been. But my husband was. He tried to make me join him, but when I discovered that he was killing vampires and werewolves even when they were not dangerous at all, I left him.”

Her gaze then went to Holden, and she continued. “When we and the Guardians were attacked, James refused to leave us behind and to go to safety. Your son is a good man; he saved my life and also that of my friend. We would never harm him.”

The bartender stared at her with an expression she could not quite place, not uttering a word. He turned to his father.

“I am responsible for them. If they threaten the pack in any way—which I don’t believe at all—I will face the consequences. And if you want us gone, then we will leave.”

The expression of the alpha darkened. “You know what you risk if they take the life of one of us.”

“Yes,” he replied, his tone just as serious as his.

His father seemed to ponder, then nodded, and casting a glance toward Naomi and Amos he declared with a tinge of bitterness.

“You can stay. I sincerely hope for you that I won’t regret this decision.”

Needless to say that lunch was quite tensed. Tom’s manners, while not fully hostile were coldly polite, which earned him a few glares from his wife whose behavior had not changed at all. Far from being reckless, she had concluded that the two friends were no threats and trusted her son completely. She had not yet forgotten the time when they had refused to believe him and the conséquences that followed; this was something that she had to live with for the rest of her days.

Naomi was about to knock on Holden’s door, when the werewolf opened and invited her to come inside. Upon entering, she remarked that half of the walls were covered in shelves almost bending under the weight of books.

“I take you don’t like only coffee.”

“I tend to think that one does not go without the other,” he smiled lightly.

“Maybe I should try, then.”

Silence settled, and he watched her closely. “Are you alright?”

There was concern in his tone. She nodded slowly.

“And Amos?”

Turning into his wolf form, the tattooed man had gone out for a run in an attempt to relax, agitated because of the tension filling the house, the suspicions, and the possibility for him to be brought in front of the council of their people.

“He will be fine,” she assured. “But thank you for asking. Thank you also for defending us in front of your father. I am aware that we put you in a delicate position.”

“You don’t have to thank me for that, it was only fair. Amos and you did save my life. And I mean everything I said.”

She averted her eyes for a second. “Still, I’m sorry…I should have told you earlier about my connections with the hunters.”

He smiled kindly. “I don’t blame you; I would have probably done the same if I were you, after all we were strangers to each other. But I have to say that there had been some dead giveaways.”

“You’re not as naive as your father seems to think, then. And to my defense, when I arrived in Ceres I didn’t exactly plan to use that case to fend off vampires who were hunting down a werewolf, who turned out to be that bartender I just met days before, _and_ the son of a alpha.”

“You forgot that the Guardians and the police also looked for me,” he added teasingly.

“You’re right. I still can’t believe that you make the lieutenant swear on his honor.”

“Well, he wanted information; I wanted us to be safe…” he answered. “He must have been furious when he realized how little I knew about what was going on.”

“Maybe, but that doesn’t matter anymore. I’ll leave you to your reading,” she said as her eyes fell on the book lying open on the bed.

She was heading out of the room when her feet still and turned.

“Holden?”

“Yes?”

“I’m glad that we are no strangers anymore.”

She resumed her walk and he watched her retreating form, warmth blooming in his heart.


	10. Shot in the dark

She dialed the number and waited as she was put through, her eyes darting toward the passers-by on the other side of the glass panel. Her features were no longer hidden in the shadows of her cap—the article of clothing had become too recognizable—or in anything else for that matter; a hooded sweatshirt would have made her look suspicious. Instead, she had opted to trade her dark hair color for a chestnut brown. A beep echoed in the confined space, quickly followed by another. She abruptly hung up and exited the booth, her hands buried in the pockets of the jacket she had managed to grab in her continual fleeing. She forced herself into a relaxed gait, avoiding staying under the wind and listening carefully to her environment to make sure no one was on her trail. Still, she did not go back straight to the hotel but turned left and right, stopping from time to time in front of shop windows.

Guilt clutched her heart at the thought of that werewolf who helped her —the attack on Ceres had been in the news for days. She hoped that he was fine, although at the moment she knew she should rather worry about her own situation.

Luckily, help would not be long to come.

 

* * *

 

 Hands crossed behind her back, Drummer surveyed the pictures moving rapidly on the screens. That reminded her of the slot machines for which the city was so famous, of those people waiting with bated breath to see if their life was going to improve dramatically or not. There was something fascinating in that moment preceding the result, in those few seconds that could tip the balance and reverse the course of an existence that was plummeting.

But their reward would be far more significant than money, and they were not the only players.

She was interrupted in her musings by the sudden appearance of a signal.

“What are we picking up?” she asked to one of their technicians going by the name of Edin.

“Someone has just activated one of our emergency communication protocols.”

“Which one?”

A brief pause. “That of Lionel Polanski, ma’am.”

The tensions in her shoulders eased. Finally. “How many dial tones?”

“Two.”

_I have the package. I am waiting for further instructions._

“Location?”

“Here…in Eros,” he replied, disbelief coloring his voice.

She smiled. Smart girl —hiding in plain sight.

“I want that address immediately,” she ordered, moving toward the exit. “And good job everyone.”

The hunter with smoky eyes was on her way to inform Fred Johnson, when strands of conversation reached her from an adjacent room.

“—have the precise location…No, I don’t think so…I’ve send a word to the men…understood, I’ll keep in touch.”

“Who was that?”

Anderson Dawes turned around to see the right arm of the hunters’ leader staring at him, suspicious.

“I was just informing my men—”

“About Julie Mao’s location”, she cut off, “And I don’t think Fred Johnson gave you the authorization to do that, but maybe I am mistaken?”

A smile tugged at his thin lips. “If I had waited for everyone to be informed, we would have wasted time. Precious time. This is faster this way. We would not want those werewolves or vampires to find her before us, eh?”

She remained silent, scrutinizing him. “Give me that phone.”

He looked at the object in his hand, then at her. “Why?”

Quick like a thunderbolt, she pointed her gun at him. “I said give me that phone.”

The man with cropped, silvery hair slowly raised his hands.

“Now, I understand we are all nervous and agitated because of the situation; we’ve just found Julie Mao, there are many people that are also looking for her and her mission is crucial to the future of humans, of us—”

“Don’t move!” she ordered as he was stepping forward. “I won’t hesitate to shoot, and you know that.”

“This is ridiculous; we are on the same side. Now is not the time to doubt each other. We have to stay united, like brothers and sisters, now more than ever.”

She noticed him glancing at someone behind her. Her long braid swept the air. Metallic shards tore a path through her abdomen. She felt the coldness of the ground underneath her.

“We are discovered, we have to move now!” Anderson shouted to Edin before they both broke into a run, ducking as bullets whistled pass them.

In what served him as an office, Fred Johnson slightly turned his head to listen with attention. Was that gunshots he just heard? He immediately contacted his right-arm. No response. Brow furrowing, he stood up and headed to the center of commands. However, he had barely made a few steps that a dark-skinned woman in a leather jacket and her brother blocked his way.

Anderson Dawes’ henchmen.

“Report?” he asked, watching them closely, although he could sense they were there for an entirely different reason.

“Not exactly,” Lida replied as she reached for the weapon at her belt.

A mutiny. Of course, if a damn mutiny had to happen, that would be in the middle of a crisis. Well, if they thought he was going to let them do what they want, they had another thing coming.

“You’re making a big mistake,” he growled.

His eyes became of a burning brown color.

 

A groan escaped her lips as Drummer got up to slump against the wall only seconds after, a hand pressing her torso. That bastard was lucky she was in no condition to chase him. She had to warn Fred Johnson, although by now he was certainly aware of what was going on.

Gunshots in the distance. Cries. Approaching steps.

She pointed her firearm at the entrance.

“It’s me,” her boss said, hands raised.

Relief washed over her, and she lowered her weapon. “I’ve sent the coordinates as we agreed, but I’m afraid we might be too late. Anderson has already alerted his men.”

“We can’t do anything else for now.”

She nodded dejectedly then commented. “You look terrible.” His clothes were torn and speckled with blood in some places.

“Speak for yourself.”

She chuckled at his words, but then winced. He gently sat her down and pushed her hand away to examine her wounds.

“It looks worse than it is…”

“Anderson betrayed us. I walked on him talking with someone on the phone, but I don’t know who it was. I don’t know how many men are with him either.”

“We’ll see that later. You need medical attention.”

“We don’t have time for that. We need to gather the hunters still alive and loyal to us, and evacuate.”

“We won’t be able to do anything if both of us are dead,” he observed before giving her a pointed look. “And there’s no way I’m letting you here.”

She sighed, but a part of her was moved that he refused to leave her behind. Still, the second in command insisted. “You have to; I will only slow you down.”

“You forget who I am.”

 

* * *

 

Miller took a deep breath as he tried to hang up without slamming the phone down, and rubbed his eyes. No one in Ceres or Ganymede would communicate him any information they might have on Julie Mao, as if no one actually wanted to find her. Well, maybe that was just because they actually had nothing on her.

His cell phone suddenly buzzed. He frowned upon seeing that the person contacting him was none other than Sematimba, his former partner who was now working at Eros.

At Eros, which was near Ceres, and nearer to New York City.

He touched the screen. His heart sped up and then froze at the coordinates and the message accompanying them.

_Julie Mao is in Eros. Attack is imminent, needs help immediately._  

Without thinking, he grabbed his jacket and gun, and snapped his fingers at his partner to get his attention.

“We’re going to Eros. Now.”

“She’s there?”

“Yes, and in great danger. I’ll explain on the way.”

The old detective did not wait for his answer, and walked briskly toward the elevator.

“Should we not let the local police deal with this?” Havelock remarked as he followed suit. “The city is an hour away; we will never be there on time.”

“We don’t know that but if it’s the case, judging from what happened at Holden’s place, backup cannot hurt. And if some of those bastards manage to escape, trust me they won’t go far.”

The ride to the neighboring city was tensed and intense.

But the scene at which they arrived was even more chaotic than Miller’s driving. Police cars were haphazardly lined up in front of the hotel in the necessity to intervene without losing any more time, officers were shouting orders and running here and there, people pressed themselves behind the “do not cross”, phone in hand, and a couple of bodies were lying on the ground. In one swift movement, Miller dived under the yellow band and rushed toward the entrance, brandishing his badge as he passed by. A terror deeper and sharper than that he experienced as a teenager hiding in a car seized him while certitude settled in his guts.

_They were too late. They were too late and—_

“They are on the second floor,” Havelock informed him. He did not ask him how he knew, just followed his directions.

The head of the dark-skinned policeman, who was discussing with his partner, turned toward him as he barged into the room, shoulders rising and falling in quick successions.

“Sir, you don’t have the right to be here. You can’t be here.”

“It’s okay,” Sematimba replied. “It’s Joe Miller, from the NYPD. He’s the detective working on the Julie Mao case.”

The Belter did not register anything of their exchange. His gaze had settled on the young woman sitting with her back propped up against the wall, her eyes wide and unblinking, a silhouette clad in white crouched in front of her.

Something broke inside of him.

“Don’t touch her!” he exclaimed. “Leave her alone!”

The forensic scientist was ready to protest after he roughly shoved him aside, but his words died on his tongue upon taking the sight of him, and he quietly retreated. Miller let himself fall by her side.

“Julie…”

Her brown locks were of a much lighter shade, but this was the same angular face, the same round cheekbones, the same almond eyes and arched eyebrows.

She was the same than the one who never left the inner pocket of his jacket, save for the torn flesh of her throat and the lacerations on her arms.

He had promised that he would find her. He had promised her father that he would bring her home, alive and safe.

And he had failed him.

He had failed her.


	11. A heavy heart

Miller had this strange feeling of having already lived that moment as he and his partner were ushered in the wide living-room where Jules-Pierre Mao and his wife were waiting for them, their hands laced together. He had been hopeful, back then; certain that he would be able to find the young woman and bring her home.

In the hours following his arrival in Eros, he had called the businessman, saying that they needed to see each other as soon as possible. He would tell him face to face what befell his daughter, even if that destroyed him. This was the least he could do. However, judging by the seriousness of their expressions and their tensed postures, the couple already knew.

“How?” the Asian man inquired quietly once they were seated.

This time, no one offered refreshments, and no one asked. No coffee with cream but without sugar, no pointless civilities.

The detective braced himself. “She’s been attacked in her hotel room in Eros. The Blue Falcon. She fought back, but…” he trailed off, his throat tightening. “I…When we arrived it was already too late.”

There were no sudden cries of pain or sorrow, no tears, no outburst, no accusation fueled by anger; the parents of Julie Mao briefly closed their eyes, their grip tightening around each other’s hands.

“I…”

“We are sorry,” Havelock said.

Miller had always thought those words ridiculous —what did they even mean? The people who usually said them were not guilty for the loss, were they?— but this time, they seemed fitting. He _was_ guilty. Maybe if he had been faster, if he had seen the connections sooner, pressed some people more so they would give him the information he needed…

“This is not your fault, detective Miller. Nor is it the fault of your partner. We are certain that you did everything that was in your power” Jules-Pierre Mao said, as if he was reading his thoughts, before murmuring. “You had no chance against them.”

The Belter nodded despite not believing a single word.

“Can we see her?” Ariadne Mao asked.

“Not for now, but we’ll inform you as soon as that will be possible. If we have anything new, we’ll also let you know.”

As they were about to leave, Jules-Pierre Mao thanked them and the old detective could not help but wonder; this was the first time someone thanked him for screwing up so much, and without mocking him.

The world no longer made any sense.

* * *

 

Seated behind her desk, Chrisjen Avasarala watched as the faces of the vampire leaders and that of Jules-Pierre Mao appeared on her pad.

“Your family is safe. What is this crucial information you wanted to give us?”

The werewolf had contacted the Archons and her a couple of days ago, claiming that he had something very important to tell them but that he would not reveal anything until they made sure his wife and children were escorted out of the city and into a secured area. Surprisingly, he had required they be moved to Lovell City, in the county of Luna located in the neighboring state.

Right in vampire territory.

The fact that Sadavir Errinwright was nowhere to be seen was not lost on her either. What was he playing at?

“You are mistaken about the hunters.”

“You will have to be much more specific than that,” she warned. “I know I’m old but I’m not senile; it has been clearly established that nor vampires nor werewolves are to be blamed for what occurred.”

“It is the hunters’ fault, but not Fred Johnson’s.”

At that, the Archons exchanged glances. “Our men alerted us on several hunter bases that went suddenly silent. We sent teams on site, and after further investigations they concluded that they turned against each other.”

“And judging from what you implied, I suppose they were not just arguing about what to do with the substance?” Chrisjen Avasarala said, her eyes fixed on Jules-Pierre Mao.

“Some of the hunters don’t want to follow Fred Johnson anymore; they think he is too soft, too lenient. Getting rid of vampires and werewolves who are dangerous is not enough anymore. They want to protect humans by eliminating _all_ vampires and werewolves.”

“And the substance would allow them to do that?”

“Yes. But I don’t know how precisely. I’ve just heard that that was meant for humans, that the substance would give them a great advantage over their enemies.”

Her gaze shifted in the direction of her counterparts. “We are still working on that,” J.Peñano said.

“What do you mean you’re still working on that? That comes from one of your research centers and you don’t even know what can be done with it?”

She gritted her teeth. “This was not meant for humans.”

A smile brushed the lips of Chrisjen Avasarala as realization dawned on her. They had been working on a means that would allow them to walk in the light of the sun. Their oldest and greatest dream. Closely followed by the one where they are the more powerful.

“Our scientists found something and were killed before they could tell us anything,” Pyotr Korshunov explained before focusing his attention on the male lycanthrope. “However, there is something else that intrigues us. How can you expect us to trust you when you are clearly involved in this?”

Jules-Pierre Mao swallowed. “These hunters gave me no choice. They forced me to let facilities at their disposal, and to supply them with equipment. If I refused, they would harm my family.”

But everything changed after they took the life of Julie Mao, Chrisjen Avasarala mused.

“What was the role of your daughter in this?”

“She joined Fred Johnson,” he confessed in a breath. “I think she was sent to retrieve the substance but that these hunters had no attention to use it against us; at least not without a very good reason and unless they don’t have any other choice.”

“Sadavir is working with those…rebellious hunters, isn’t he?” There was no other explanation as to why he kept hiding things from her.

“Yes,” he nodded. “He is their intermediary. I’ve never seen their leader; when they wanted me to do something, they would send him.”

She scoffed. All the while he had been watching as they pointed fingers at each other and ran after the wrong persons. How he must have laughed at them all. What son of—

“So, just to make sure I’ve understood everything,” the male vampire said, interrupting her thoughts. “The hunters—who are not led by Fred Johnson—are informed by one of the scientists working at the research center and who is their ally, about the substance and how that could be used to give humans an advantage over us. Then, Sadavir Errinwright, who I suppose made a deal with them to protect his own pack, contacts you on their behalf so they can have access to equipment. Once they are sure to have it, they break into the research center to steal the substance. But Julie Mao, sent by Fred Johnson, is also there with her partners. They fight each other and she is the only one who manages to escape and to grab the substance. To cover their tracks, the hunters send vampires who track her down to Holden’s place. But she’s not there and they end up attacking Holden who runs away. Now they have a problem, because he could talk and tell what he witnessed. So they send werewolves after him, and thanks to the help of our Guardians, he stays safe. After that, those hunters lay low until they succeed in locating Julie Mao.”

“Yes, this is what happened.”

Well, what a huge mess.

“We would like to talk with Mrs. Avasarala in private,” the female leader said in a tone that left no room for argument. “We will contact you after that.”

Jules-Pierre Mao’s screen became dark.

“You know that werewolf better than us. Can he be trusted? Are we certain that he is not still loyal to Sadavir Errinwright and that he’s not playing double-agent?”

“I know how that feels to lose a child,” she replied in an even tone. “And Sadavir played a part in that. Do you really think that after that Jules-Pierre Mao would be ready to obey him? Not mentioning that he was pressuring him.”

“Or so he claimed,” Pyotr Korshunov observed. “It’s possible that he also struck a deal with the hunters to protect his pack.”

“We would be fools to rely on him. And Jules-Pierre Mao would be the greatest of us all if he thinks he can deceive us. If he tries, if I have the slightest suspicion on his part, I will deter any businessman from even thinking about a partnership with him, demolish his reputation, seize everything he has, and turn his own pack, his own children against him. Once he would be completely alone, powerless, broken, in the dark, with nowhere to go and no one to help him, then he would maybe reconsider his life choices,” she declared, her dark eyes gleaming fiercely.

Her counterpart raised her eyebrows. A smile tugged at the lips of the male vampire.

“Well, I think it’s clear.”

The leader of the eastern coast waited a few moments before accepting the invitation, not wanting to appear desperate although he had kept glancing at the pad as soon as the Archons and the member of the werewolf council told him that they would reach him later to give him their answer.

“We’ve made our decision,” the elegant, Indian woman declared. “Because you accepted to help the hunters and Sadavir Errinwright, were aware of what they planned but did not inform the Council until it was too late, you are considered as their accomplice in the murders of the scientists and of Shed Garvey, as well as in the repeated attacks on James Holden and the Guardians. You are also guilty of betrayal. In normal circumstances you would pay these crimes with your life. However, we are ready to commute this sentence to imprisonment if you agree to work for us.”

His fingers clenched. She had kindly left aside the fact that would also make him an accomplice in the hunting and the demise of his own daughter. But she did not have to mention it; he was already aware.

“You want me to spy on Sadavir Errinwright.”

“Yes. You will give us any piece of information you manage to find, and we will pretend that nothing happened and that we are blissfully ignorant of what he and his new friends are preparing.”

“Just to be clear,” the female vampire intervened, staring at him. “If you don’t give us results, then our agreement will be cancelled. Understood?”

He inhaled deeply. “Yes. I accept your offer.”


	12. With eyes wide open

Holden stared at Miller as the latter stood in front of the door.

His brow furrowed in concern. The face of the old detective was marked with deep circles under the eyes; his shirt was crumpled and ill buttoned up. He felt a pang of compassion for him. Those days following what was now called the Julie Mao case were far from being easy. More than once the bartender had woken up with people waiting for him outside, or caught some inhabitants glancing at him when they thought he was not looking. He was more than grateful that Naomi had offered him to stay at her place until calm returned. He had not Amos’ temper, but he was not sure he would not have ended up punching people.

Going out for a run in one’s wolf form is not particularly discrete or easy with everyone watching.

“We need to talk,” the Belter declared.

Without a word, Holden pushed the door wider and stepped aside. The two friends gave him questioning looks when they saw the blonde-haired man enter.

“What can we do for you, detective?” Naomi inquired, crossing her arms.

“I want you to tell me what truly happened with Julie Mao,” he replied, his eyes fixed on Holden.

“Should you not know? You were there, after all, weren’t you?” Amos quipped.

Miller slowly faced him. “Oh, I’m sure you must find yourself quite clever. Idiots usually do.”

The nostrils of the male mechanic flared. Naomi fought the urge to slap the both of them.

“Go ahead,” the old detective said. “Go ahead and hit me; I’m waiting for you.”

Holden immediately put himself between them.

“Don’t you even think about it, Amos,” he growled, then turned his attention toward the officer. “As for you, I’m going to say that it’s the sorrow talking. But if you insult us again, I will kick you out. Not very clever when you went to us to have some answers.”

The officer held his stare, and then stepped back.

“Besides, I must admit that I don’t understand; I told you everything that I know,” he continued.

“No, you didn’t. You didn’t tell me that you and Amos were werewolves.”

Although the bartender kept his composure, he could read distrust and astonishment in his eyes. “Yeah, I know about that. Since I’m a kid, actually. Don’t worry, my partner is also one and I haven’t done anything to him, though sometimes I really wanted to. Got on my nerves quite often,” he stated. “I’m not a…hunter, or whatever you call the persons that track you down. Julie Mao was killed by werewolves, wasn’t she?”

“Some werewolves probably did it, but the order did not come from their kind,” Holden replied quietly.

“How can you be so sure?”

“She was a werewolf too. They would have caught her, interrogated her and imprisoned her, not…done something like that.”

“Who, then? Vampires?”

His gaze darted in the direction of Amos, who slightly bowed his head. “We think it was the hunters,” he explained. “We don’t know which ones exactly; they are many different groups which makes them difficult to identify.”

The Belter did not say anything, mulling over this information. Could he be that the Far Horizon Foundation was one of these groups and entered in conflict with another one?

“Detective Miller…” Holden called softly. “You’d better let our leaders deal with those hunters. You know what happened to us; they are dangerous. And you might complicate the situation further.”

“Jules-Pierre Mao should have thought about that before involving me.”

 

* * *

 

“—are you taking me? Where am I? Who are you?” the bearded man with short, dark brown hair and blue eyes exclaimed as he was dragged into the room by two muscular men and forcefully seated in a chair beside which were various medical equipments.

Focused on the straps, his interlocutors did not bother to reply and withdrew to the entrance once their task was done.

“Male subject, mid-thirties. Attempt number five,” a person clad in white, whom he had not noticed until then declared before approaching him, a syringe filled with something of a vivid blue in hand.

Said male subject started to struggle against the bindings.

“What—? What the fuck is going on here? Don’t, don’t put that thing near me!” he shouted, staring wildly at the syringe. “What shit’s in it, anyway? What are you going to do to me?”

But the needle came inexorably closer.

“Please, don’t do that. I’ll do anything you want, give you anything you want, but please don’t do that and let me go!” he begged.

His arm prickled. His veins drank the substance.

Later, Antony Dresden watched as the body was taken away.

This was another failed attempt, but the results had nevertheless been better than the previous time. They were close.


End file.
